


Admit It

by lalikur, ratsandpurpleflowers



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst and Humor, Developing Relationship, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-10-04
Packaged: 2017-12-22 16:50:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalikur/pseuds/lalikur, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratsandpurpleflowers/pseuds/ratsandpurpleflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's whatever. Just whatever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Grand Optimist

     It was sophomore year. Jean recognized him from... Somewhere, he knew. But he couldn’t place his finger on it. He brushed it off. Whatever, he thought. That kid was a year older. They wouldn’t have any classes together, so what did it matter if he looked like someone from some place that one time?

     But they did have a class together. Jean had an aptitude for maths, and went into an advanced class. Marco Bodt, that was his name.

     It began to bug him more and more, that freckled face that frequented his 5th period class.

     Before long, it started grating his nerves so terribly he couldn't take it. Those naive smiles and the airy laughs Bodt shared so openly. Where was he from?

     Despite his better judgement, he looked Marco up online. Jean usually hated social networks. He thought they were full of assholes, which they were; assholes that had nothing better to do than complain about rival teams and about how the latest Halo hadn’t been released yet. One of those assholes being Eren Jaeger. But who fucking cares. Jaeger was full of shit anyway.

      Social networking only benefitted him in times like these. That slighted anxiousness of not being able to identify a stranger you feel isn’t really a stranger. In that moment, Facebook was a gateway of impression, a blessing disguised as post after post of whiny teenagers. Here was Marco Bodt, with the ever so childish Spongebob cover photo that hadn’t been changed since 2011.

     It was so stupid. He couldn’t help but laugh, just a little. But he’d never admit out loud that maybe yeah, it was kind of funny.

     Maybe Marco Bodt wasn’t an asshole. He liked decent music, watched some alright television. He didn’t seem as pretentious as ninety five percent of Trost District High School. Marco was becoming alright in Jean’s book.

     Maybe Jean would say hi tomorrow. It was whatever to him. Just whatever.

     And there it was, right under his dumb grinning profile photo.

  
      _“Attended Rose Junior High.”_  
   

       Bingo.

     When Jean spotted him the next day in class, there was a moment of indecision before he raised his hand to the boy to whom his efforts were going towards for some reason. He couldn’t help but be curious, and something down in the cavity of Jean’s chest ached for companionship. A loneliness he would try to bury until further notice.

     Jean oftentimes had difficulty relating with his peers. They were called peers, but realistically he thought of his classmates as little more than mouths that had the ability to spew nothing but bullshit 24/7. His personality wasn’t much of a crutch either. He couldn't deny to himself that he did want to get along. Not that he'd ever try though.

     Maybe he thought Marco was a gateway to something he could call a friend. Maybe it was the fact they attended the same middle school. Maybe it was because Marco seemed friendly enough.

     Maybe it was his welcoming smile. Jean didn’t know. To him it was all whatever. Usually whatever. But whatever was beginning to wear him out.

     “Hey,” he said with the most casual tone he could muster. Why was he so nervous? Marco's lips curled up into a smile, revealing the way his bottom teeth mashed against each other a little in contrast to the rest of his straight teeth. Someone didn't wear their retainer.

      Jean wasn’t one to talk though. The same thing happened to him, but his parents tortured him through another six months of braces to correct his teeth once more. Jean suppressed a smile of his own. Maybe they had more in common that he thought.

     "What's up?" Marco asked, sitting in the desk next to him.

     "You went to Rose?" Jean turned to his bell work. Marco's eyes lit up. Trost was a high school that was attended by students from two counties; Jean and Marco's middle school was dwarfed in comparison. Rose was a small school and most of its graduates when to Marian High School, not Trost. There was no wonder Marco was excited to find someone else that called Rose their alma mater. Marco beamed.

     "Yeah, I did! You did too? I don't remember seeing you there. Then again we're in different grades. Oh, were you i-" Ms. Rico cut him off, looking bored reading from a slip of office paper. It was unprofessional to allow students to call her by her first name, but her last name was so hard to pronounce she didn't even want to try to get the kids to butcher it.

      "Students, it's club time. Join a club. 3D Art, swimming, the Trost High Baseball team-- you get the point. Sign ups will be posted outside of guidance." Rico crumpled the paper and attempted a toss into the garbage can. She missed. "Now that that's out of the way, lets get to that homework."

     Baseball, huh. Jean dabbled in baseball in 7th grade. Joining didn’t sound like the worst idea out there. In high school physical activity was hard to come by. Plus the Marian Titans were all dicks, he wouldn't mind kicking their asses. He was good at sports, so there was no doubt in his mind he'd make the team.

      Additionally, with extracurriculars he could make his college apps look better. And with a good college, he could make a good living and move somewhere nice. Maybe even the Interior, an expensive country club-esque residency.

      At the end of class he packed up his bags and headed towards the door, typing his homework into his phone. Marco stopped him, asking if he was going to join any clubs. Jean adjusted his bag on his shoulder.

     “Maybe.” he shrugged and headed to lunch. He was pursued by freckles. Right. They had the same lunch period. Jean felt slightly nervous with Marco following him. But if this was what friends were like, he supposed he’d have to get used to it.

     Lunch was awkward. Most of the time, Jean sat alone or next to a group of people from his middle school. Which were like, four people. He'd never really had a conversation with someone before that didn’t end in snide remarks or punches flying. Jean was lonely as hell, and he had no clue what to say when Marco sat down with him.

     But he was grateful for the company, even if they didn’t say anything. Jean did his homework at lunch, and it turns out Marco did too. No one expected the youngest Kirstein to have chosen Trost District over Marian Prep, or that he would be so studious. But he was. He figured that was another reason he had so few people to talk to. He knew no one, and upon the mention of his siblings at Marian, people figured he was a preppy douche like the rest of his family.

      At least that’s what he told himself. He blamed his family for the absence of companionship in his life. Jean had a hard time admitting things already. He wouldn’t even admit his loneliness to himself. His family could deal with the blame he mentally cast upon them.

     Having Marco sit with him sprouted a feeling of comfort in his chest. Lunch was nearly over but it felt as though the open wounds left by loneliness were slowly patching themselves up, thanks to Marco. Waving goodbye to his newly considered friend, Jean felt a tinge of sadness that the hour had already passed. It was short lived but enjoyable. For once, Jean Kirstein was excited for school.

     The next day in class, Jean held back a big smile as Marco walked in, taking a seat next to him. He couldn’t show too much interest. That would be weird. They were just friends, if even that. One fucking day at lunch didn’t mean friendship, he berated himself mentally. They weren’t even friends on Facebook. Jean thought too much. Sometimes he wished he could turn it all off and just be a robot. But then who would be there to laugh at Jaeger? Connie couldn’t diss Eren like Jean could.

      Ignoring his mind for a bit, he hesitantly reached out his hand, before pulling it back. Marco was talking to other people. Jean had totally disregarded the fact that Marco could have other friends. He couldn't expect Marco to drop everything and buddy up with good ol' Jean Kirstein after an hour of silence at a table. He decided on a note. Dropping an innocent slip of paper asking him to text him wasn't anything major. Jean was about sixty two percent sure that kids did that these days. It was Friday after all. Casual stuff like this was more permitted on Fridays, he thought.

     He also thought that that action wouldn't eat away at him. From his departure from school to his arrival at home, all Jean could think about was Marco Bodt and his damn cell phone. The sun was starting to set, as were his nerves. Jean decided he would drop it. Laying back on his pillow, Jean silently reverted himself to his old ways. Silly, he thought. It was silly of him to get so riled up about a dumb boy from his class; he wondered if this is what girls felt like. He sighed, glad it was over.

      Buzz.

_"hi jean!! its marco bodt from 5th period. sorry to keep you waiting heh ;)"_

      Jean stared at the smiley. Another text came in.

_“sorry!!! meant to be a :)”_

     He felt his heart drop. _Shit._

     In that moment Jean knew that it was well not over.


	2. Amusing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's whatever. Just whatever.

 

          He found himself checking his phone again. God damn it. Even when there wasn't the faint buzzing of an incoming text, Jean felt that there was one. Or at least he wanted to feel it. Having a friend was pretty demanding work. It was worth it though.

          He liked having attention put on him. He liked feeling as if someone legitimately enjoyed his presence. It was new. It was nice. Jean Kirstein wondered if this was what being happy was like. He felt happy at strange times. Like when his mom complimented him on his good grades. He always felt like a sucker. Sometimes when he came home from the school, the feeling of just being there made him contented. Until the rest of his family came home.

          His stupid prep siblings; he was the youngest of four. Two older sisters and a brother. They all went to Marian Prep, following after their friends from Rose. Jean’s parents questioned why he chose Trost District over the comfortable and closer Preparatory School, but he usually just shrugged it off.

          He couldn’t fucking stand his sisters. His brother, Thomas he could stomach. Sometimes. But Molly and Olivia were a different story entirely. They were low-grade teenage scum, the type that Jean couldn’t be around for more than 10 seconds before fighting the urge to shout obscenities in their direction. At the back of his mind, he was glad that they were separated.

          It was good that his parents didn’t push him to be with the rest of them. Of course it upset them that he refused to be in the same room as them, but it made them happier when they didn’t have to deal with a room of bickering teenagers. Right now, his parents were probably separated somewhere in the house. They mostly kept to themselves during the weekend. It was a breather for everyone.

          About ten minutes before his last text from Marco, his mother asked him to clean up what he could. Jean didn’t fucking know what that meant. So he just took to sweeping some of the dust and fur left around his room and the hallway leading to it. His old dog, Winston, liked to run around and make his life hard by leaving fur in every damn spot you could think of.

          His phone buzzed. Conveniently enough, Molly was in the hall. Just in time to see him dart to his phone, and like the ass she was, she laughed loudly.

          “What’s this?” she mocked. “Jean has a friend? Olivia, get in here! We have to document history.” Olivia joined her in the hallway, laughing as Jean slammed the door shut, a blush reddening his ears.

  
  
 _“todays boring for a saturday :( kinda wish it was a school day.”_

 

          Jean sighed in agreement. He could hear his sisters snickering outside his room. He yearned for school at this point. He dragged himself to his computer chair and tapped at the space key nervously, eyeing his phone.

 

_“so jean, have u thought anymore about baseball??”_

_"a little bit i guess."_

_“i think it sounds like fun!!!”_

_“ok well. how about i go if u go.”_

_“deal!!! ;)”_

 

          Jean closed his phone. It buzzed again.

 

          _“UGH!!! i keep doing that!!! see you monday jean!”_

Monday couldn't come sooner.

 

  
          The moment the bell rang for lunch, Marco bolted up, grabbing Jean by the wrist and pulling him across the school to the guidance office. Some people stared. Why was some kid dragging Jean Kirstein around school? And why was Jean letting him?

          Jean wasn't a stranger at school, he was at the top of his classes and his family was well known in the town. His mother sold real estate, his father a well-off businessman. But what was new was that Jean had a friend.

          They reached guidance and Marco dropped his wrist. Jean's arm felt cold, felt as though something had been ripped violently away. He wanted it back. The air cooled around the spot where Marco's hand had been, and before long, it was like they never touched at all.

          Jean was surprised what a few minutes of friendly human contact did to him. His stomach was a fluttery mess. Marco called him back to reality.

          "Jean? Aren't you gonna sign up?"

          "Huh? Oh, sorry." he fumbled in his bag for a pen, but Marco had him covered.

          "Here, use mine." Jean took the pen and scrawled his name under the tiny letters of Marco's. And that was that. Jean and Marco were signed up for baseball. The paper was signed by at least 30 students, but they knew only 17 people would make it. Nine players on the field and then the backups.

          Jean scoffed when he saw Eren's name at the very top of the list. He wouldn't be surprised if Eren didn't make it. He wasn't too good at well, anything. Mikasa and Armin's name were right under Eren's. Predictable. Mikasa would make the team for sure. Armin probably not, but they needed towel boys, I mean, "Team Managers," right?

          "Okay, looks like try outs are Wednesday right after school," Marco said "and then official team announcements will be posted Friday." he sounded excited. Jean couldn't help but share the feeling.

          The two then parted ways, Jean reminded himself that school wasn't cancelled on behalf of his glee. Walking- no, trudging back to his locker, he felt a faint buzz. Another text from friend of the year, Marco Bodt.

 

_"we're gonna kick some serious ass jean!! :D"_

 

          Jean looked up and smiled. He hoped to whatever deity that yes, he would get some serious ass. Kick. He meant kick some serious ass. What was wrong with him. Uh.. Maybe he would meet a girl whose ass he could get. He adjusted his collar. Yeah.. Who knew...

          Monday and Tuesday passed as quickly and they could. Wednesday came with a kick to Jean's groin. Aside from that, the tryout went smoothly. Jean's swing was impeccable, according to coach Erwin Smith, the head of the English/Lit department at the school. Levi Reivaglasikewn-or-other however, the schools youngest and most demanding teacher, was less than willing to voice any opinions that could boost self esteem. All he cared about was whether or not we could beat Marian. And clean the dugout properly.

          Marco was pretty good at baseball. He was kinda clumsy, but he was better than Connie’s left handed pitching. Jean prayed that Connie would just be in the outfield. Sasha was there too, to everyone’s surprise. They thought for sure she’d join cooking club. But here she was, her hair tied up in a sloppy bun.

          Eren was mediocre. But Coach Smith was impressed with how hard he was willing to try. Tch. Everyone tried not to laugh when Armin struck out twice in a row before hitting a ball straight into Jean’s glove after the easiest pitch he’d ever thrown. Armin was a good sport though, disappointed sure, but he was happy as long as he was with Mikasa and Eren.

          Sometimes people forgot how close the trio was. They shared an apartment near the school, rented with the money Eren and Armin made from their part time jobs and the scholarship money Mikasa got from not going to the private school downtown. The Sina Academy pitied Mikasa. She was 9 when her parents were struck down in their little home in front of her. No one talked about it though, how Eren somehow managed to save her. It was confidential, known only to the police and Jaeger’s closest friends. But the hushed whispers said that Eren had killed the perverts holding Mikasa captive. How, no one dared to think about.

          Together the trio had a total of two licenses, one out of those two who could drive, and an SUV with about as much power as a rickshaw. Jean sometimes felt bad knowing how badly off those three were. You’d think that through all of their hardship Eren would come out a softer person on the other end. Jean felt worse for Mikasa having to deal with those two giant babies. Mikasa was more a mother than she could admit; somewhere down there, he had a deep respect for her.

          Even deeper down, Jean was jealous. Not of their situation, but of their friendship. Marco was the closest thing he’d had to a friend since those fake elementary ones he was forced to hang out while their mom’s got drunk and watched shitty reality TV. Jean supposed if he had more friends, he’d be less involved in his studies. But it was whatever. He was third in his class. He’d make it out of here eventually.  
With the Interior in mind, he swung back his arm and pitched.

          Friday came. Jean tapped his foot anxiously. Results would be posted right after lunch. Marco smiled next to him and nudged him.

          “Come on, Jean. It’s almost time.” Right. Mr. Smith came over to the bulletin board, looking tall, and then behind him, stoic as ever, Levi Whatever-his-fucking name-was. The shorter one held the piece of paper that would hold his future in baseball.

          The cranky chemistry teacher stood near the board with 17 packets in his hands. One for each of the members. In them, Jean guessed, would be medical release forms, uniform orders, and a bunch of other shit no one would pay attention to. Students all around the lunch room stood up, looking over each other to see if they were letting anyone near.

          Finally Mr. Smith moved away. The kids began to swarm until there was a yell. Levi was glaring up at Ymir. She got too close, and wasn’t paying attention to the makeshift line Levi was trying to create. OCD much? The small teacher had a very large voice.

          “Okay. Listen here.” He caught the attention of the room.

          “I don’t give a shit if your name is on this list or not. You keep in line. Or I will personally pay you a visit every morning for the rest of your in school life to collect all of your homework from all of your classes.” He was fuming. How does anyone get like that? Jean took a small step back in line. He heard a familiar chuckle, then realized he had stumbled into Marco.

          “Oops,” he breathed out a light laugh. Marco shoved him a little with a smile.

          “Watch it, Kirstein.” Jean turned around and suddenly realized he was shorter than Marco. Not by much, but he did have to look up slightly to meet his friend’s brown eyes.

          By the time he made the connection that Marco was taller, he was second in line to see if he had made it.  
         

           The paper read as follows:

 

        _1\. Mikasa Ackerman_  
 _2\. Eren Jaeger_  
 _3\. Jean Kirstein_  
 _4\. Marco Bodt_  
 _5\. Connie Springer_  
 _6\. Sasha Blause_  
 _7\. Christa Lenz_  
 _8\. Ymir Edda_  
 _9\. Thomas Wagner_  
 _10\. Mina Carolina_

_Team Manager: Armin Arlert_

 

         Jean paid no attention to the other seven names. He made the team! So did Marco! But he turned around and grumbled. Eren placed higher than him? What bullshit. Jean wouldn’t let that get him down. The information booklets the team got were chock full of useless shit, aside from practice dates and uniform order sheets. Jean was happy with this victory. Jean was happy with a lot more recently. It made him wonder if this was what he was missing out on all those years he didn’t have anyone for a friend.

        And as if on cue, Connie Springer, number five on the list, announced a party at his house for those who made it onto the team.

       This whole friendship thing really had benefits. Jean was a little nervous, and doubted himself, but decided he would go anyways. It looked like a good portion of the team was going, some of the replacements “couldn’t make it,"  Jean assumed it was out of shame of not making it in the actual team.

         They were to be at his house at 7. Which was a good few hours and a lot of nervous speculation away. On his way out of the school, after saying bye to Marco and a few others, his phone buzzed.

 

_“are you excited?? cant wait to see u there. :)”_

 

          He decided he was excited to see Marco, too. He was excited, which was unusual, since Jean expected the worst out of high school parties.

 

         It was 6 o’clock, and Jean was still sitting on his bed. What was he supposed to wear? It was fucking stupid to be so concerned about clothes, but hey, this was his first team party. He guessed he could wear something similar to what he wore to school, to show that it wasn’t a big deal, but it was a big deal.

         Doot doot. A text.

 

_“jean my car broke down!! can u pick me up?? connies house is too far to walk 4 me :(“_

 

          Now it was an even bigger deal. Jean typed back a quick reply in favour of the situation. A few minutes later Marco Bodt’s address popped up on his screen.

 

_“see u at 7??”_

_“sure man”_

 

          No one showed up on time to parties anyway.

 

          Jean ran a hand through his hair. He was sitting outside Marco’s house. He wasn’t exactly supposed to be driving alone, but with his restricted permit, he was only a month or so away from being lawful in doing so. The cops around here were good sports about that type of stuff, so he wasn’t worried. He considered getting out and ringing the doorbell but for some strange reason, he was too nervous. He shook his head.

 

_“i’m here”_

 

         Marco came out a few minutes later, jogging to the passenger side of Jean’s car. He rattled the handle for a second before Jean realised he had locked the door. Hastily, he unlocked it. Marco got in and buckled his seatbelt.

         "Sorry about that,” Jean muttered, a tinge of embarrassment lurking on the tops of his ears. Marco waved his hand.

         “It’s alright man. So, what do you think this party is gonna be like? I haven’t been to a party since freshman year...” he chuckled.

         “I dunno,” Jean turned onto the main road. Connie went to Rose so he knew where he lived, and they had hung out once or twice since entering high school. And by hung out, Jean meant Connie copied his homework instead of listening to the explanation Jean offered.

         “Probably gonna be everything cops hate. Music, drugs, drinking, you know. High schoolers fucking up their lives with stupid shit.” Jean didn’t know why he was going. “And probably spin the bottle...” he trailed off, the quick image of lips locked with a face full of freckles flashing behind his eyes. His ears burned. What the fuck...?  
He pulled up next to Connie’s house. It was 7:23. It wasn’t too crowded, but there was Armin’s old car, Sasha’s bike, and a few other cars whose owners he couldn't remember.

         The house was quieter than they expected, the pulsing music only reflecting the quick heartbeats of kids once they were inside. Red solo cups lined the tables. Connie laughed and threw an arm around Marco.

        “Welcome to party central, boys,” Jean scoffed. Connie was so god damn lame. “You guys are just in time, the main event is about to take place.” He held up an empty beer bottle, a smirk covering his face. Jean groaned. Marco laughed, a little nervous.

       "Please, Connie. What is this? Sixth grade?" Jean felt his ears burn again despite his sarcastic tone. Connie shoved Jean and Marco further into the house and down the steps of the basement. Sasha, Armin, a very visibly stoned Eren, Mikasa, Ymir, Christa, and a few others he didn’t really recognize were all sitting in a circle.

       They sat down, completing the ring of nervous teenagers. Doesn’t matter how old you are. Pull out a bottle in a circle and heart rates will spike. There was no way the bottle would spin on carpet, but as usual, that wasn’t gonna stop Connie. He had a large glass plate.

       “Who wants to go first?” No one raised their hand, so being fucking Connie, he tossed the bottle to whoever was closest. This time, Sasha. She blushed a little, but took it in good stride and sat the determining factor on the glass. She took in a deep breath and spun. Everyone held their breath. It stopped. Thomas. At least, Jean thought his name was Thomas. Laughter. Sasha moved over to him and kissed him quickly. More laughter.

         The doorbell rang. Eren looked up from his hands, and then to Mikasa and Armin.

         “Family..” he began unsteadily “I think.. The pizza is here...” he stood up with a $20 bill in hand and came back a minute later with a box of pizza. He stared at it. “This is the pizza we deserve...” he set it down on a table, turning to look over the crowd below him. “But not the one we need right now."

        Everyone bust out laughing. Jean laughed too, surprising himself. Thomas had already spun the bottle and kissed Mina. Mina spun. It landed on Marco. There were a few giggles as she gave him a quick peck on the lips. Jean felt his heart beat faster. Marco’s bottle was spinning. And then it wasn’t.

        Jean stared at the neck of the bottle, following it as it... Landed on him. Hushed laughs spread across the circle. Oh, fuck. He looked at Marco, whose freckles were covered in a deep red. Jean rubbed his head, his own blush traveling down his neck.

        And then they were kissing. Some of the girls cheered. Marco’s lips were soft. Like, really soft. Jean kissed him back, pressing up against him. He felt a hand on the back of his neck, urging him into the kiss. He let himself fall into it, forgetting about the others presumably staring open mouthed. Armin cleared his throat, shoving them back to reality. They pulled away, breathless, Jean for once not being able to contain his smile. He felt stupid, but Marco was smiling too.

        “Wow,” Eren said. “I don’t think anyone else will be able to beat that.” Connie slapped Jean on the back, laughing loudly.

        “Thanks, Jean. Now no one else can get any lip action!” Jean blushed harder, everything was whirring in his ears. His stomach felt like it was going to implode. He could still feel Marco's lips on his. It shouldn't have felt that good. He wiped his lips, turning his head away. He couldn't stop blushing.

         The party ended a little while later with everyone digging into the pizza Eren bought. Jean glanced at Marco and caught his eyes. He looked away quickly. Fuck. Man up Jean, he yelled at himself. He had to calm down, they still had a 20 minute ride home together.

  
           Jean praised whatever god was looking over him. The 20 minutes in the car wasn't as awkward as he expected. They fell back into normal conversation, baseball, homework, the usual. Marco flashed him a smile as he waved, Jean pulling out of his driveway. A text came in a few minutes later.

 

_“i had a lot of fun tonight, thanks ;)”_

          This time, there was no text correcting the smiley.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter in the Whole Gay  
> We'd also like to thank everyone for reading and for the comments left!  
> Totally tell your friends about this. 
> 
> Chapter 3 should be up sometime next week!


	3. New Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's whatever. Just whatever.

         “Come on, slow pokes!” Coach Erwin Smith screamed out from the shade of the dugout. It was hot as hell, and the Trost Garrison was running the bases. 30 times. They had practice every other day now, and with the first game of the season on Saturday, this was the last practice before it.

         Finally done, they slumped over on the benches, Connie grumbling about his farmer’s tan. Jean was surprised he could get any darker, but somehow, he did. They all had farmer’s tans. Ymir shoved him and told him to can it.

        Armin came back with handfuls of water bottles and boxes of pizza and Jean was sure he had seen the face of god. He grabbed two bottles and four slices of pizza, bringing them back to Marco who leaned up against the outside of the dugout fencing.

         “Here,” he handed him his plate and sat down next to him. The sun was still beating down on them, but with it setting, he didn’t mind much. It had been two weeks since the party. At first, people at school teased them. Calling them boyfriends, but eventually they just stopped because it had no effect.

         They weren’t dating. It was spin the bottle. Jean felt like responding with “And what if we are?” but he didn’t know how that’d make Marco feel. Or how he’d feel if they actually were dating. But that would never happen. Jean wasn’t gay.

         Marco smiled up at him and took the plate thankfully. He finished half the bottle in his first gulp and wiped his lips.

         “You ready for the game?” he said through mouthfuls of pizza. Levi glanced at the kids, grease running down their chins and the way the sweat carved tracks in the red dirt on their faces. He looked like he was going to vomit. They were teenagers on a baseball field, honestly, what did he expect?

         “I guess, yeah.” Jean was pitching. He had better be ready. “I mean, it shouldn’t be too hard, right? We’re just playing Barett. They’re a football school. Shouldn’t be too hard.”

         “True. So it’s Barett, King, and then Marian... They’re gonna be tough to beat.” Marco said.

         “All the more reason to kick their asses. The Titans are all douchebags.” he grumbled. He heard Marco laugh next to him.

         “Don’t your siblings go there?”

         “Yeah. Douchebags.” he smiled. Eren pushed the fencing Jean and Marco leaned on, causing Jean to spill water all over himself.

         “What is it, Eren.” he grumbled.

         “They’ve beat us the past three years, but now we’ve actually got a chance.” He grinned. Marco grinned back.

         “Hell yeah.”

  
         Jean shook his hands nervously. First game. He was the starting pitcher. Home game. Top of the inning. The first two Barett batters struck out. Third up to bat hit a double. Fourth hit her ball right into Sasha’s glove on second base. The game dragged on.

         Trost ended up winning 5 to 2. No injuries sustained, thankfully. The other team sulked off to McDonalds or something for a good cry. Jean felt exhausted, but excited at this new development.

         “I think we’ve got to hand this victory to Armin, I would have died without that pizza.” Marco swung his arm over Armin’s shoulder, the smaller boy laughed under his breath. Jean was staring at Marco, subconsciously, until Marco looked back and flashed him a signature smile. Jean shot him a pained one, several variations of ‘what the fuck’ running through his head. He kicked the dirt, glancing around him. He should be feeling more like Connie- that stupid son of a bitch was folding a pizza box into a hat. Jean should have been doing that. But for some reason, a solemnity hung over his tired shoulders.

         A large hand patted his back, Coach Erwin and cranky chemistry guy were standing side by side, going from player to player to congratulate them. Actually it was more Coach Erwin, Mr. Ri-fuck-his-name was just handing back copies of release forms. Jean scoffed, of course, how dare a guy like him be even subtly interested in this thing that was apparently so big for all of these sweaty teenagers.

         The next game happened with just as much struggle as the last. Jean wasn’t one to pick on peoples appearances but for how sluggish King's team looked, they were a tough fight to win. Jean once again found himself gawking at Marco’s happy state. They were friends now, that should have been an alright thing to do by this point in time. But Jean still found himself berating the action.

         After, they all left the field to get something to eat. Jean caught himself distancing himself from his friend. Marco didn’t seem to notice, until Jean was at the very back of the crowd, sitting with a replacement whose name he didn’t even know.

         Jealousy rose up in his throat like bile. He needed to make more friends. He couldn’t rely solely on Marco for companionship. He looked at the faces around him. They were only a step up from strangers, almost. Jean guessed they were considered friends, but he still felt lonely. He shook his head. Pathetic. Jean Kirstein. The same Jean Kirstein who for the majority of his life, relied solely on himself and his wit, was feeling lonely over a boy he knew for two months.

         He didn’t like thinking about it, but he questioned what the kiss did to him. Is that what kissing did? He’d kissed plenty of girls before. He’d never felt this attached though. Maybe it was a guy thing. He sighed, his burger getting cold under his nose. He took it to go early, leaving with the shitty excuse that he had to clean. It was 8pm. Jean knew it was bullshit. He expected the others to also. Maybe he would leave a bit of guilt on their plates.

         Serves Marco right, he thought. Serves him right for having kissed him. Serves him right for not noticing something wrong. Jean didn’t want him to notice, but he wanted the attention. Jean swore he could feel himself turning into a girl. He got home, barely falling onto his bed. This was comic, Jean thought. A guy like him, getting so worked up over something so immature. He felt his phone buzz over his hip. What now.

 

        _“i hope you’re doing okay jean... :/ i was worried for you tonight”_

 

         He threw his phone on the floor, disregarding the potential damage he might have caused. The buzzing kept him up. He denied himself any viewing of the messages arriving. Marco could live without him for one more night. Pulling his pillow over his head, Jean groaned and eventually fell asleep.

 

_\- Messages (3) -_

_“did you make it home safe?”_

 

_“i really hope you did, reply when you can.”_

 

_“you’re in my thoughts, hope you’re ok. :) sleep tight jean!!”_

 

  
         Jean sighed when he read the messages. Now he felt like a douche for not responding.

 

  
 _“sorry my phone died. i’m ok”_

 

  
         Marco replied a few minutes later.

 

_“good! you had me worried there. glad you’re ok :)”_

 

  
         Jean didn’t have time to reply before another text came in.

 

  
 _“can’t wait for the next game! we’re gonna kick their asses!!! >:)”_

 

  
         And now Jean was excited too.

 

  
         Connie groaned, complaining about the shitty AC in the bus. They had to drive to Marian for the game. First away game. Jean was in charge of directions. He hated it. The only reason they made him co-pilot was because his siblings went there. And because Marian was pretty far away. Levi apparently didn’t trust Google Maps.

         Jean sulked in the first bus seat. He couldn’t be the only one with siblings at the preparatory school. But he was used to the drive. It was a good twenty to thirty minutes from Trost. He sat up a little when he noticed Marco sitting alone. Jean suddenly felt burdened with guilt. Friends did things like sat by their friends on the bus;  in that moment Jean realized he was letting his own confused and immature feelings get in the way of this friendship with the boy sitting three seats forward on the right of him.

 

_"marco, you’re gonna do great and we’re gonna win”_

 

         Jean hesitantly pressed send. 26 seconds later, Marcos face lit up. He beamed back at him. Totally worth the reaction.

  
         It was the bottom of the 5th when Annie Leonhart stepped up to the plate. Mikasa was pitching. Annie was one of the star players on the Marian team. She was usually flanked by what were considered her best friends, Reiner Braun and his boyfriend Bertolt Hoover. Their names were weird as hell. Then again, Ymir was named after a giant in Norse mythology...

         Mikasa pitched a curveball. The ball and bat connected with a sickening crunch. But it was nothing compared to the sound of a baseball impacting upon bone. Time slowed down for Jean Kirstein and the simple task of breathing was lost to him.

         A pained scream sped him up. Marco was on the ground, clutching his leg as teammates and referees rushed to him. Annie stood at home plate looking bored, her bat on her shoulder as she watched the scene unfold.

         Jean found himself running to the injured player as well. Marco was doubled over in pain; in that moment Jean forgot everything and just tried to console the crying boy.

         The medic on hand was gently feeling around his leg, searching for the damage. He pulled back

         "There might be a fracture. Gonna need someone to take him home, he can't stay here. Not like this."

         "I'll do it." Jean kneeled down by Marco and grabbed his arm, hoisting him up onto his feet taking the brunt of the weight.

         "Inform his parents of what's going on. He might need to go the hospital if it's too much to walk tomorrow." Jean nodded and slowly walked him off the field.

         "Jean, I'll take him. You're pitching next inning, we need you here." Levi said. His comment was ignored. Jean continued to his car, carefully helping Marco into the backseat, his injured leg spread onto the seat.

         "Ow... Thanks, Jean..." he breathed, letting his head fall against the window. Jean started the car and speed to Marco's house.

         

         His parents weren't home. Jean wasn't really sure what to do. He helped Marco out of the car. His hand found Jean's shoulder using it for supposed as they limped in. Thankfully, Marco had a one story house and his room wasn't too far.

         Marco Bodt's house had a warm smell. Very welcoming and soft. If smells could be warm and welcoming and soft, of course. Jean took a quick glance at the picture frames in the hall, pictures of weddings and birthdays. He found out that Marco's father passed away when he younger and that his mother remarried, having a little girl with Marco's step-father a few years later. His sister was in 4th grade this year.

         Marco managed to laugh through this. "My room is a little messy sorry, didnt expect to have anyone over today..." Jean shook his head.

         "This is what you call messy? My mom would love you-" He tripped over a shoe, falling onto the bed and and sitting up just in time for Marco to fall himself, not being sturdy enough on one foot. Not onto the bed like Jean, but into his lap. Marco's hand was gripping Jean's thigh for support.

         And for a second time that day, Jean Kirstein forgot how to breathe. Marco's face was inches from his. Their eyes were wide, staring into the pair so close. He could feel the shaky breaths on his lips. Marco's hand held onto Jean's leg a little tighter, causing Jean to turn away, his ears and cheeks glowling hotly. He knew that if he moved his face back and a little closer, they would be kissing. The thought stirred something in him. He had to get out of there before this got awkward.

         "I uh, I've... I have to go." he murmured, helping Marco off his lap and onto the bed. He got up and looked down, heading out the door.

         "I'll um, I'll text you okay?" he still felt the grip Marco had on his thigh, felt his breath on his lips. "Try to get some rest, I'm sure your mom will be here soon uh I.. I'll see you later Marco." he rushed out, his head flooding with feelings and images.

         Their spin the bottle kiss. Marco's breathless smile. His freckles blanketed by a deep blush. His eyes wide with want. Jean felt his dick grow hard in his pants. He made it to his car and strapped himself in, his hand ghosting over where Marco's had been not 5 minutes before.

         He remembered how soft Marco's lips were. How warm his hands were as he pulled Jean closer and into the kiss. Jean remembered his heartbeat, picking up the moment the bottle landed on him. Kissing Marco felt good. He was uncomfortably hard. There was no way he'd make it home with this.. situation in his pants. He veered off the road, heading into a small unfinished subdivision.

         Turning the car off, he palmed his dick through his pants. And oh god, did that feel good. Jean had never been this aroused before. He didnt care right now though. Didn't care that he was getting harder by the second, thinking about Marco's lips on his, thinking about Marco's lips places other than Jean's lips and oh. Jean was stroking himself freely now.

         But it wasn't his hand he saw. It was Marco's, working him over with his usual smile. Jean groaned, pumping himself faster. He was jacking off to his best friend with reckless abandon. And boy did it feel good.

         He was close. He no longer had control over the noises coming out of his mouth. Pants and quiet moans, trying hard as he could to bite his lip to keep them in. And then he saw Marco's lips on his again. Marco biting his lip to keep him from crying out as Marco's hand touched him.

         And that was it. With a drawn out whimper, Jean came over his hand, letting his head fall onto the steering wheel, face flushed, his dick going limp in his hand.

         After a few minutes of recovery, he let himself consider the fact staring him down. The fact he tried not to think about ever since the kiss. But here it was. He had just come to dirty thoughts of getting off with his friend. He let himself think it, if only for a moment.

 

         Jean Kirstein had an enormous crush on Marco Bodt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, chapter three!  
> We come bearing some unfortunate news however. Co-author Marissa/ratsandpurpleflowers will be returning to school starting the week of the 19th and chapter publication will have to slow down seeing as we can't spend day and night planning and writing as we've done this past week. We're not putting the fic on hold or anything, just slowing down a little.  
> We appreciate all the support so far! Enjoy the chapter. 
> 
> If you've got any questions or comments or suggestions or fanart or literally anything, hit us up on tumblr.
> 
>  
> 
> Ren/lalikur- legmin.tumblr.com  
> Marissa/ratsandpurpleflowers- queenofkirstein.tumblr.com


	4. Oh, Gravity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's whatever. Just whatever.

         Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god. No, there was no way. Literally no way. Jean wasn't gay! Or was he? He groaned into his pillow. No, he told himself. No, he just got a little worked up over such close contact, that's all.

         Jean blushed madly, thinking back to yesterday in the car. He can't believe that happened. He wasn't like other horny teenagers. He could never get into something enough to even touch himself. He'd looked at porn before, but it did nothing for him. He shook off his right hand rendezvous as just heightened emotions.

         He refused to admit the alternative. Jean Kirstein liked girls. Girls. Like Mikasa and the cute dark haired Mina with a few sprinkled freckles and fuck. Marco popped into his head again. God damn it.

         Just as his turmoil was reaching its peak a text message came in. Jean had no choice but to assume it was Marco, he didn't text many other people and the other boy probably wanted clarification of the situation that happened. He couldn't escape Marco. Jean's existence started feeling like one giant groan. He reluctantly pressed open, hoping it would say 'hope u didnt mind i grabbed your thigh and made you feel gay things'. Instead it said;

 

_"i'm out for the season. can you tell the coach"_

 

         A pang of guilt hit Jean in the chest. This meant that he would only see Marco at fifth period. They probably wouldn't even talk after what happened. The sudden urge to cry rushed over Jean's confused self. God he was so stupid. He shouldn't have let himself get so flustered over what happened. Now he was gonna lose his only real friend. And all because he couldn't sort out his stupid feelings. He brushed his fingers over the cold surface of the phone. This phone was the reason all of this was happening. The stupid gay note he left on Marco's gay desk with his gay ass number on it.

         You know what, maybe Jean was gay. He’d go right downstairs and and scream it to the entire fucking world. He buried his head in his pillow. This sucked. He sat back up and stared at his phone. Man up. Grow a pair, he told himself. Fucking text him back. Stop acting like a goddamn school girl for christ’s sake. He picked up the device and flipped it open.

 

_"we should talk marco.”_

 

  
         Hitting send felt like it was worth it until the phone starting ringing. Panic flushed his thoughts, and the phone still rang. It felt louder and more prominent than ever. Fuck this, fuck this, fuck this. Apparently not; he hit the accept button.

         “H-hey.” He didn’t know if his hands or voice were shaking more, he felt like passing out nonetheless. There was silence for a few seconds, until the other boys familiar voice streamed through the line.

         “Why’d you leave me?” Marco’s tone teased. Jean was seriously ready to hit end call. What the fuck was this kid doing to him? Had he totally forgotten what happened?

         “Haha, oh. I- I uh wanted you to have some time for yourself. You being hurt and all.” He fidgeted on his bed, adjusting to a cooler spot.

         “I wanted your company!” Marco beamed. Jean was getting fed up with his stupid voice. Was he seriously the only one of the two who had gotten all hot and bothered over last nights occurrences?

         “Oh, um, sorry then.” Jean cleared his throat. Silence waved over the call for a good minute.

         “Well?” Marco asked. Jean was thoroughly confused.

         “Well what?"

         “Are you gonna keep me company? You gotta make it up to me! My parents are out of town and my sister is at her friend’s house. I need someone to cook and clean for poor injured me.” He was laughing. Jean started to laugh too.

         “Seriously?” he questioned. He was kinda nervous, after all that had happened, it was fair to feel nervous. Spending the night at Marco's house could lead to what happened that night or worse, only this time Jean wouldn't be able to take an escape route to his car.

         "Yeah! You owe it to me, running out on me like that." Jean itched the back if his head, not knowing what to say next.

         "Marco, can you hold on for just a sec," Throwing his phone onto his mattress then covering it with a pillow, Jean Kirstein let out an excited giggle. He breathed in deeply and picked up the phone again.

         “I’ve gotta check with my parents but they should be okay with it. Mind if I go downstairs and check really quick?” Marco said he didn’t mind. Jean came back a minute or two later. “They said they’re fine with it. When do you need me over?” he was already throwing an overnight bag together. Jean couldn’t remember the last time he went to a friend’s house. Probably Connie’s the summer before freshman year.

         “Uh, what about around 5pm tonight?” Jean checked the time on his phone. It was only 12pm.

         “Uh, yeah, that should be good.” He could only pray his nerves wouldn’t get the better of him until then.

 

  
         Jean checked his phone again. He felt like it had been 1:23 for ten years. He still had hours until he should even get ready, but there his bag was, all filled up with clothes and pajamas and a bunch of junk he didn’t really need. He always overpacked. He was starting to get really nervous. Whenever this happened he usually drove down to his grandfather’s grave.

          His grandfather was his closest friend. He died last year and ever since, whenever Jean was unsure, confused, or anxious he always went to the gravesite and sat down and just got everything off his chest. But a dead man’s silence wouldn’t help him today. He needed actual advice, he needed help, something a stone slab couldn’t do for him.

         But who was he supposed to go to? The only person he could think of was Connie. Connie, who had been there for him when his grandpa died. In theory, Connie was his closest friend. But what was he supposed to say? Hey there Connie, I have a huge crush on this guy and I’m going over to his house for the weekend, what should I do?

         The fuck? Connie didn’t know Jean liked guys. Hell, this was new for Jean too! Jean didn’t even really know he liked guys until last night in the car. But Connie was a good friend. He stuck up for others and he tried his best to help, even if he wasn’t very good at it. Maybe if Connie just shut up and listened for once, Jean would tell him. Or something.

         He slid his phone open, searching for Connies contact information. Text message.

 

          _"hey dude have you got a minute to talk?"_

 

          25 minutes from then, Jean met with Connie at the park close to their old school. It was a little awkward, since they didn't talk much aside from at baseball practice. Jean didn't know where to start. Or how to talk about it.

 

         They sat on the swings, Connie just staring at Jean as he swung nervously back and forth.

         "Dude you gotta say something here.” Jean groaned. He placed his hands on his thighs and made a sloppy plan in order to get it over with.

         “Conrad Springer. I swear to your god and my god I will wring your neck if you tell anyone about this.” Connie was taken aback by the use of his full name. No one used his full name. Like, ever. Expect maybe his grandma when he fucked up. He knew this was serious.

         "Okay, okay. Shoot." he said. Jean took a deep breath in.

         “Okay there's this guy and you know him we all know him, okay, it's Marco and I have a huge fucking gay crush on him like fuck, I didn't know I liked guys. I mean, I like girls! I had a huge crush on Mikasa last year, how did it go from her to him. God I don't know but when I took him home yesterday-" Jean covered his face, too embarrassed to look up. "and he fell on me and oh god I can't believe I'm telling you this-- I got a boner and then it was all over Connie. And then I fucking, god I fucking got off on it? Please feel free to punch me in the face-- I fucking got off to Marco Bodt and that stupid kiss at your fucking party and now he wants me to come over for the weekend and help him cos’ his parents are out of town and holy fuck what am I gonna do if he falls on me again it's not like I can run to my car like last time and it'd be so fucking weird to jack off in his bathroom oh god, Connie what am I gonna do. I just, I really fucking like him Connie.” He let out an exasperated sigh, “Is this fucked up or what?” Connie patted him on the back.

         "Dude, you got a serious case of the gay." Jean let out a muffled scream into his hands.

         "God, Connie! I know! What the fuck am I gonna do? Please man, I'm asking you this as a friend. I'm fuckin stuck. In mud. And it’s gay mud. Fuck.” Jean’s throat threatened to close up.

         "I just-"

         "Whoa hey dude are you about to cry on me?" Connie mumbled and started moving his hands around frantically, unsure of what to do. Jean shook his head. His eyebrows furrowed to hell.

         "I'm not that gay." Connie snickered.

         "Tell him." he swung back on the swings, so fucking casual Jean felt like kicking him in the shin.

         "Hey Marco, I've got a huge hard on and it’s for you! The fuck? Hell no dude." he started to feel more comfortable talking to the other boy about this. His presence was naturally calming, Jean guessed. After all, they had known each other for years. This should have been easier, but telling another guy you’ve got feelings for him is a little far from things that friends do.

         “If you love someone let them go-- No, shit, thats not the quote.” he looked puzzled, “Love is like the wind, you can’t see it but you can feel it, so. Like. Make wind at him.” Connie wore a proud expression. Jean scoffed.

         “I haven’t watched The Notebook enough times to know how to do this shit.”

         “I could lend you Brokeback Mountain if you want.” The little shit. Jean extended his arm and shoved his swing out of momentum.

         “It would be appreciated if you kept the gay jokes to a minimum.” Jean did however really did appreciate Connie’s half hearted attempt to help him. As much as it really didn’t. He was grateful to know that he wasn’t alone in this. “Thanks for your-” cue air quotes. “-help.” Jean snuck a small smirk in. Connie patted him on his back and wished him luck. Minus any gay jokes, thankfully.

         Jean took his leave. All that was left to do was think, and think some more. Maybe make a grilled cheese sandwich and cry a little bit. He felt his phone, heaving in his pocket. Silently, he cursed the piece of technology. But without it, he wouldn’t know it was 4:17 and he had less than an hour left to get ready. Jean tried really hard. Like really hard, not to skip all the way home. That or just to fall over, forever. Yeah. That seemed like the better option.

         Jean double checked his bag. This was the easy part. He had packed his toothbrush and his pajamas and everything else you bring to a normal sleepover with a normal friend with whom you have a normal relationship. Jean also packed his homosexual emotional baggage. Couldn’t forget that. He checked the clock on his phone. Shit. He had to leave like, now.

         He threw the rest of his stuff in the bag haphazardly and ran downstairs.

         “I’ll text you when I get there!” he called out, blurring out his dad’s response as he slammed the door shut.

         Marco’s house wasn’t too far away. He checked his hair in the rearview mirror. What. A. Loser. He shook his hands, trying to shake out the nerves. It didn’t work. Skydiving was probably less nerve racking than this. He typed in a quick text and stood at the door. Marco replied quickly after.

 

  
          _“come on in, i can’t really get up lol”_

 

  
         Shit, right. He let himself in, awkwardly setting his bag by the couch where Marco was sprawled. His leg was in a cast. Jean couldn’t help but stare.

         “The doctor said it was only a fracture, but close enough to a break that it needed to be set for longer. Shit’s pretty heavy. That Leonhart girl has some swing.” he laughed. Always the optimist. Jean just stood there, not really sure what to do.

         “Uh, do you need anything?” Jean’s gaze lingered away from Marco.

         “An ice pack. And someone to play me in my Halo game.” He held up an Xbox controller and waved it, beckoning Jean to join him on the couch.

         “Where’s the ice?” Marco tilted his head at him.

         “I honestly don’t know. The freezer. Probably. That’s where ice usually is. Genius.” Tch. Jean scoffed and headed towards the kitchen. He opened the freezer door and stood there; the cold air hitting his arms gave him goosebumps. He wasn’t sure what to do. Did people even have those big ice pack things anymore? Jean grabbed a pack of peas in lieu of the regular. Marco spotted him in the entrance of the living room.

         “Were you planning on cooking for me? How sweet of you, Jean.” He teased.

         “Actually, I was just planning on ordering pizza.” he tossed the peas to the snide freckles on the couch. “Here. I don’t know how to make an ice pack. Hope that works, your highness.”

         “Very good, peasant.” His eyes crinkled when he smiled. Jean felt butterflies crash into the walls of his stomach. Eugh, feelings made Jean feel like a giant wuss. He searched his mind for an off switch, no such luck.

 

         They played Halo for a little while, Marco kicked Jean’s ass leisurely. Jean never really played video games, he never had time with his studies. Was that lame or what?

         The pizza came. They ate and watched some shitty TV show, making fun of the actors and the terrible jokes. This felt normal. This felt good. Jean wasn’t nervous or anything, he felt like he was at an old friend’s house, just hanging out.

         Night came, and with night came pressure. Jean accompanied Marco to his room, helping him get into bed. His heart was pounding with anticipation of what happened happening again. Thankfully, it didn’t. Marco patted the spot beside him on the bed. Jean figured this was alright. His eyes were sore from watching screens all day. Everything felt subdued. It was becoming harder to ignore the situation, Jean sitting shoulder to shoulder with Marco. Staring at the wall across the room in silence.

         His mind wandered for a while, wondering what Marco was thinking about. Probably about how lame Jean was outside of school. He felt a hand squirm beside his own, a finger brushing Jean’s. His heart skipped a beat. Fuck. Connie’s words flooded back into his head. But was now the time to tell him? What would Marco do when Jean got all gay on him? 

         Jean never even considered the fact that Marco probably didn’t like him back. It was selfish, really. But rejection was something Jean couldn’t stand. And he stood for a lot of shit up until now. Should he go for it? Should he wait? He argued with himself internally.

        The air was heavy with tension. Marco probably felt it too, Jean’s nervousness was emitting itself into the atmosphere. He heard Marco clear his throat, expectantly.  
Skydiving. You could either wait for the opportunity to pass you up and let the plane take you back down, or you could take a leap of faith.

         Taking the leap could mean losing the friendship he so needed. But holding back could be the biggest mistake Jean Kirstein could make in his natural born life.

         Jean chose the latter. He moved his hand closer to Marco’s, his heart pounding in his ears. He felt warmth, felt the the other hand clasped in his own. He looked at Marco finally. His cheeks were red, Jean could tell, even in the dull light of the room. Arching himself over the injured boy’s body, he guided his lips to Marco’s. Marco’s reaction was instantaneous, kissing him back with the gentleness Jean would expect.

 

          _Falling_. This was the whole point of jumping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much everyone!!! We've gotten loads of support lately, it's so awesome to see all the interest! Fanart, comments, followers, it's amazing. We're stunned. 
> 
> And we've made an official tag for the fic! On tumblr, au admit it is the tag.  
> Tag any fanart or reactions in that tag and we'll definitely take a look at them!  
> We'll also make a post in the tag whenever a new chapter is out, so definitely make sure to track it. 
> 
> Marissa goes back to school tomorrow, the 20th, but we've already got a bit planned out. Again, thank you!!
> 
> We're not sure when the next chapter will be up, hopefully soon, but with schedules, we can't make any promises, so keep an eye out for a post in the tag!
> 
> Ren/Lalikur- legmin.tumblr.com  
> Marissa/Ratsandpurpleflowers- queenofkirstein.tumblr.com


	5. Restless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's whatever. Just whatever.

        Jean’s mind was foggy with sleep. He felt hungover from the previous night, though no drinking was involved. The situation was slowly dawning on him, especially when he opened his eyes to Marco hanging over him. He was half asleep but could clearly tell that the other boy was grinning like a fool.

       “G’morning sleeping beauty.” he whispered. Jean groaned and turned over, shielding his eyes from the early morning light streaming in through the cracks in the blinds. Even after last nights confessions, the air around them was surprisingly.. Not awkward. It was comfortable. A nice, comfortable silence. Jean felt the tops of his ears redden.         

        He was surprised when Marco kissed him back, if he was honest with himself. He wasn’t sure what would happen but he couldn’t say he wasn’t happy with the result. Did this mean they were dating now? Jean usually fucked up with any girl that gave him a chance, so he was relatively new to the whole relationship scene.

        They were quiet for a few more minutes, letting their brains become accustomed with coherent thoughts.

        “Jean, your phone has been ringing all morning.” Marco mumbled as another text notification buzzed in. He grumbled and rolled out of bed to get Jean’s cell, assuming that Jean wasn’t planning on moving anytime soon. Marco stretched, humming contentedly as he looked down at Jean, still sprawled out on his bed, hair sticking up in all the wrong places.

        “For the love of sleep, answer your damn messages.” Marco sat back down on his bed and looked at the lock screen.

        “Whoever this is, you don’t have their number in your phone,” he mused, sliding his finger along the lock. “Jean what’s your passcode?”

        “1234,” He muttered.

        “You’re joking.” Jean was not joking.

         “I don’t know how many times I’ve had to explain that to every damn person who has touched my phone. Please don’t make me give you the grand tour of passcode history.” Marco put out his hands as if to say no.

        “I think I’m okay.” He looked back to the illuminated screen.

 

  
        _Messages - (6)_

 

_“kristen”_

  
  
_“what is ur last name french german”_

 

_“come 2 beach”_

  
  
_“no dont come”_

 

_“horse face fucking reply”_

 

_“its 1 pm quit jacking off”_

 

  
         “Do you have any idea who this is?” Marco questioned as he read the messages aloud. Jean grabbed the phone from his hand and scowled. Jaeger.

 

  
          _“where the fuck did you get my number”_

 

_“yellow pages”_

 

_“you don’t even know how to spell my last name how did you manage that”_

 

_“i looked up “shitty loser” and ur number was there”_

 

 

        Jean began typing a response, but Eren was the faster texter of the two. 

 

  
_“so are u gonna beach or not”_

 

_“what the fuck are you talking about????”_

 

_“the big blonde dude invited the team to go to the beach w their stupid team after they kicked our asses thanks 2 u leaving us w ur bf. thx shithead”_

 

  
       Jean glanced at Marco. Boyfriend, hm.

      “Are we official then or do I still have to take you to dinner or something?” Jean smiled.

      “I like Arby’s. You can take me there some other time, boyfriend.” He laughed airily and took Jeans hand in his, bringing it up to his lips, pressing a gentle and warm kiss to the surface. Jean’s heart fluttered in his stomach and he squeezed his… Boyfriend’s hand. His mind wandered a little back to last night after the kiss.

  
         Jean pulled away first, a little nervous about the whole ordeal. He fidgeted, licking his lips. He wanted nothing more than to lean back into Marco and kiss him again. So he did. All the feelings he'd been deyning overwhelmed him as he kissed the other boy. Marco's hand held Jean's tightly, pushing into him. Jean let himself fall a little longer. 

        A boost of courage moved his tongue to Marco’s lips, pressing gently, searching for leeway. He felt the curve of a smile as the freckled boy opened his mouth too, grabbing Jean by the back of the neck, yanking him closer.

         They kissed open mouthed, it was sloppy and uncoordinated, but they didn’t give a shit. All the pent up emotions and feelings they’d been holding back were pouring out in the form of messy amateur kisses.

        Eventually they slowed, knowing if they kept up that pace… Well they might have come to regret the morning after. But the kisses turned quieter and less frequent as their inhibitions faded away.

         “I didn’t think you’d kiss me back.” Jean said. Marco looked at him in the dark, eyes wide, lips still red and bruised from before.

          “I didn’t think you’d actually kiss me.” he said with a laugh. Jean began to hide his face. Marco pulled his hands away, kissing them. “No, I’m glad you did.” He looked up.

         “Really?” his voice hinted at a grin. “I’m sorry if it was so sudden and random I know I probably should have asked or something first I-” lips pressed to his while he was talking, shutting him up.

         “I like you too, Jean.” Marco whispered as he kissed him once more and smiled, letting himself fall back into the pillow and closing his eyes. Jean lay down with him, holding onto his hand as he let himself sleep, a satisfied smile easing its way onto his face.

  
         “Jean? Hellooooo?” Marco waved his hand in front of his face, snapping Jean out of his reverie. His ears turned red. “Are we gonna go to the beach?”

        “I guess, yeah. I could use a bit of sun. But can you go? I mean with your.." he trailed off, motioning to the large case of plaster encasing his leg. Marco frowned a little. 

        "I can't swim, but the doctor didn't say anything about not being able to sit on the beach." Jean nodded and finally answered Eren.

 

        _"yeah fine whatever what beach"_

_"there is 1 beach in our city figure it out dumbass"_

 

  
         "We've gotta stop by my house so I can grab my bathing suit is that cool?"

         "I'm sure I've got one here you can use, your house is kinda out of the way isn't? Wouldn't want you to waste your gas or anything." Jean didn't want to impose but he was short on gas. Nodding at Marco, the other boy struggled to stand up and make his way to the drawer. What kind of trunks would they be. Probably some really fucking cute ones since he couldn't expect any different from Marco.

         “Are these okay?” he asked, holding up a pair of plain red swim trunks. Jean nodded and took them to go change.

         They actually fit pretty well. A little loose, but Jean had always been on the skinny side. Jean knocked on Marco’s door, asking if he could come in.

         “Well yeah, I need someone to help me put these shorts on. You think I invited you over to make out?” he called out. Jean came in, ears a little red. Marco was sitting on the bed in his underwear, shorts around his ankles.

          “I’m not totally sure how to do this you know, this thing is huge.” he grumbled. Jean awkwardly squatted on the floor in front of him, pulling the fabric over the scratchy cast up to Marco’s knee and then did the same with the other leg. Jean helped Marco up as he used Jean’s shoulder for support to pull the shorts up the rest of the way. Well, almost. Jean had to hold the other side of the bottoms and drag them up to Marco’s hip.

         Soon after they were in the car, Jean’s douchey sunglasses covering his eyes. Marco scrolled through Jean’s phone, commenting on his shitty music taste. Jean laughed, telling him to just pick a song already. The beach was about 40 minutes away.

        They pulled up and turned the car off, trudging through the sand and sun to the shore with everyone else. Jean was kinda surprised when he saw the star Titans. Bertholdt, Reiner, and Annie were all there, chatting amiably with Connie and Sasha.

        Christa and Ymir were eating, laughing at Eren, Armin, and Mikasa as they tried making a sand castle. Jean felt a little weird with the other team around, but also slightly comfortable knowing that there was another gay couple in their vicinity. He definitely wasn’t alone in this now. Bertholdt and ‘the big blonde dude’ Reiner were playing around together in the sand. Messy, but Jean admired their boldness to show affection in public. He secretly wished he could do the same with Marco, but he assumed that would come with time.

        In the background of the whole scene, there were a few red ice boxes dug into the sand. Teenagers and their alcohol. Jean wasn’t particularly interested in drinking but he figured he should let loose every once in awhile. Bertholdt and Reiner were big and intimidating enough to avoid getting carded at a liquor store. They slowly made their way toward the centre of the party, Marco’s arm slung around Jean’s shoulders. As they got closer the other voices got louder.

        “I have the worst farmers tan. Don’t you dare say yours is worse than mine. I will bury your head in the sand.” Connie threatened. This again? Eren defensively swung his fist and flexed his weak arm.

        “Look at that! My skin is the colour of those shitty apples you eat for lunch.” Was he seriously angry over something this stupid?

         “They aren’t shitty!!” A bunch of 3rd graders were probably more well behaved than this group. Almost there, the stench of 3 dollar coolers was growing. Ah, the sweet smell of alcohol on adolescents. Eren sat down and put his head in his hands. It wouldn’t be surprising if he was high again. The two boys trudged through the sand to the idiots crowded around the tall and currently pointless bonfire. They had to be drunk.

        “The party and a half are here!” Connie shouted louder than necessary. Marco smiled courteously, then glanced left. The shout had drawn the attention of the opposing team, the three that actually came, were making their way over to the flock of minors chattering over each other.

         “The losers travel in packs,” Reiners tone was teasing. From what Jean had heard he wasn’t a bad guy at all. Until you involved his boyfriend. Rumour had it that when Bertholdt and Reiner had become official, some stupid kids badmouthed them in a crowded school hallway. Reiner broke one of their noses. Jean took note not to crack any jokes on the taller ones behalf.

          “Excuse me but. We were very close to winning. So close. 8 points close.” Erens voice trailed into the background of crackling flames and Annie’s laughter.

         “Eren we won,” Armin took Eren’s hand into his own. “We won right here-” He brought both of their hands to the right side of his chest. Ah, so Armin had been drinking too. Connie looked like he was tearing up, Sasha was.. Was she eating sand? Jean shifted Marco’s weight, pulling a fold-up chair over for him. The night, well, day, was still pretty young. He handed Marco a cooler and took one for himself.

        “We have vodka for all the real men.” Annie stated, taking a swig from a clear bottle. Jean was pretty damn gay for Marco but he could admit that Annie looked great in a bikini. Reiner ran behing her and grabbed the bottle, tossing it to Bertoldt after taking a drink of his own. Annie glowered as her two friends passed the drink back and forth above her.

        She got tired of her sobriety and kicked Reiner in the shins. He yelped and dropped the bottle into Annie's waiting hands. She slid away from his clumsy movements to get back at her. He started to fall, dragging Bert down with him. They all laughed.

        Jean wondered if it was okay. To laugh and to be friends with these people. After all, Annie had seriously hurt Marco just a few days before. But here they all were, slightly to extremely inebriated, joking and paling around with each other as though they'd been friends for years.

        Marco drank next to him, just a few sips from the bottle here and there. Jean did too, not wanting to be the only sober kid there. He knew he couldn't drink too much though, they had a bit of a drive home.

        Connie called over to him, the cup in his hand sloshing over the sides. Jean excused himself, jogging to where his friend was.

       "What's up," Connie slung an arm around Jean's shoulders, the stale taste of beer and cheap drink reeking from his mouth.

       "You tell him?" Oh. That. Jean rubbed the back of his head, embarrassed. Connie laughed loudly and shoved him, harder than Jean thought he would.

        "You sly dog! You did huh? And then what?" his voice dropped. "Did Jean Kirstein finally get laid?" Jean's ears and face burned as he shoved Connie away.

       "No way man, he just," Jean's heart was a mess again, his head too. Would it be okay to start telling people they were together? "he uh, he said he liked me back and that's that." He finished, conveniently leaving out the part about their steamy make out in Marco's room.

         Connie pounded him on the back, cheering.

        "Yo! Everyone," he called out, much to Jean's terror. "My man Jean here, he finally g-" Jean shoved his hand over Connie's mouth, shushing him.

        "Shut up dude!" he whisper-yelled, glancing over at Marco who was smiling in his direction.

        "Oh come on! Let everyone know you've got a-" Jean took his bottle and put it to Connie's lips, forcing him to drink and shut up. He went along with it happily.

        "What was that all about?" Marco asked, a quiet knowing hinting in his voice. Jean sat down next to him, taking a long drink. He didn't think he'd be able to get drunk enough tonight to be able to forget this mortification.

       "He uh, he's the one who told me I should tell you," he said with an embarrassing chuckle. Marco bust out, holding his stomach as he laughed.

       "You had to get someone to tell you to tell me? Haha, smooth, Jean. And here I thought my boyfriend was the brave, thinks-for-himself Jean Kirstein." he said with a drunken smirk. A vein in Jean's forehead twitched, annoyed.

       "You want brave? Fine." he grabbed Marco's shirt and pulled him close, lips not quite touching. He smiled as he felt Marco hold his breath and he leaned in, closing the gap. He let their lips brush softly, his hand resting on the nape of Marco's neck.

       Marco sighed softly as he smiled, grabbing Jean's face and pulling it closer, their lips mashing against each other. Jean would pull away and lean back in, laughing lightly at how frustrated Marco was getting from the gentle teasing. Jean pulled away fully, not wanting to cause a scene. Also not wanting to get turned on. Marco had that effect on him. He didn’t want to have to run away again. But it looked like they both might have to. Mikasa was barreling drunkenly towards them, yelling about how fighting was never the answer.

       "Eren cover your eyes! You two, we are at a public beach, and you choose now of all times to settle your quarrels? Please, there are children here," She motioned to Eren and Armin who were gawking at the scene. Was everyone piss drunk? Jean silently praised the fact that she called them out for fighting and not making out.

       "Mikasa. No. You are wrong. Their lips were touching. That is a different kind of fighting." Armin said in shock. He looked like he was on the verge of tears

        "Hell yeah! That's my boy right there!!" Connie hollered obnoxiously, fistpumping the air.

        "Guys, lets just settle down.." Marco was beet red. Fight or flight.

         "We're dating." Jean stated cautiously. A few startled gasps traveled around the group. It felt good getting it out there but after saying it, Jean didn't know what to expect. Mikasa headed to her purse and came back with a fistfull of condoms, shoving them into Jean's shaking hands.

         "No glove, no love." Mikasa said in a deadpan tone. Jean heard Marco burst out laughing.

         “Uh, thanks, Mikasa…” Jean said, ears and neck burning hotly. He let the condoms slip off his lap and onto the sand, making a mental note to maybe grab a few before they left.

         "Congratulations!" Reiner and Bertholdt were standing over them large as ever. "We know that must've been hard for you but we get it." Reiner pat Marco roughly on the back causing Marco to let out a pained laugh-cough.

         "It's not that big of a deal really.." Jean insisted. Reiner nudged him with his elbow.

         “Yeah, sure.” he chuckled knowingly.

         Everyone stayed at the beach for a few more hours, Connie finally evening out his tan. Maybe now he’d stop complaining. Jean stopped drinking after the first few, knowing he had to sober up before he drove or he’d be in a heap of trouble. Plus, he had to drive someone home. He couldn’t be responsible for a crash with a passenger due to drunk driving.

        Stretching, he yawned. The sun was starting to wear him out. Jean looked around at everyone, lounging on the beach, Eren and Armin passed out next to Mikasa. They all seemed pretty tired. Jean felt it too. Marco sat there with his book, sipping his drink now and then.

         They all decided to stay out until the sun set, which was only about 20 minutes away. Both teams sat in a row, comfortable next to each other as they watched the ocean swallow the sun. Jean felt Marco slip their hands together. He smiled. This was nice.

        Everyone was still a little drunk and tired, but the peace was nice. No animosity, no stress, nothing. Just the waves washing up on toes and the quiet hum coming from Sasha.

       "If you think we're gonna sing some Kumbaya shit, you're still drunk." Connie muttered, falling back into the sand with a small laugh. She fell back with him, grabbing his hand on the way down. They both blushed but didn't move to separate. Mikasa, Eren, and Armin were all holding hands too. Likewise with Christa and Ymir and Bertholdt and Reiner. The only person not holding hands with someone was Annie. She held onto her drink.

        This was super sappy. But it was nice. They all had a quiet understanding that this was just a nice moment. And if anyone brought it up ever again someone would have a black eye.

        Eventually the sun set fully, leaving a warm glow across the sea and before they knew it, everyone was in their car, sober enough to drive. Hopefully. And they were on the road again, Eren hanging out the side of Armin's old car swearing revenge on the Titans. Laughter was the soundtrack in every car as they parted ways.

        In Jean's book, this weekend was pretty much the best.

 

  
        Jean was reading when the phone rang. He grumbled as he looked at the contact, but his grumble turned into a grin. Marco.

        “Hey,” he answered, grabbing his bookmark and marking his page. He could hear Marco’s smile through the phone.

         “What’s up?”

         “You know, homework.” he sighed. “Did your parents make it back okay?”

         “Oh yeah, totally. They were super glad you came over to help.” Jean swore he could see Marco wiggling his eyebrows. He laughed.

         “I’m glad I could be of assistance.” They talked for a little while longer, discussing the beach, which neither of them could decide whether or not it was a disaster or a success. Then it was quiet for a little. But a comfortable quiet, not unlike the one they shared the morning after Jean slept over. Marco broke the silence.

        “Hey, Jean.”

         “Yeah?”

         “I want you to touch yourself.”

         Jean’s throat immediately seized up. A rush of blood hit his head, likewise his cock. The embarrassment was severe. At this point he knew Marco was trying to humiliate him.

        “M-Marco?”

       “Jean, touch yourself for me.” The calmness in his voice was alarming, but at the same time it was quiet, almost like a plea. Jean’s hand had subconsciously made its way under the band of his shorts. Fuck.

        “Marco..” His tone was needy, his body needier. He felt like he was going to cry. He was so embarrassed, the fact that Marco had to say two sentences to turn him on like this. Jean’s neck and ears burned. He hoped to god he had locked his door.

         “Isn’t this what you wanted, Jean?” Oh god. How could someone with a face as adorable as his sound so fucking hot. Jean resisted the urge to grab his dick and come right there. He didn’t doubt the fact that Marco could probably talk him into it.

        “What.. what happens if I say yes..” his voice shook. His hands shook. His thighs shook. All of Jean was shaking. Three minutes into the call, it was already too much for his stupid virgin self.

        "Just do it." Jean could feel the huskiness in his voice. It hurt him. In ways he didn’t know were possible. He squirmed as gently as he could, tempted to flip over and rut against the bed. But he was greedy, he wanted direct instructions from the boy on the other line. Marco snickered over the phone. Jean was going to strangle him.

        “This is going to sound cliché, but tell me what you’re wearing Jean.” He sounded like he'd done this before. Jean lost his ability to sound coherent.

        “Sh-shorts,” he stuttered, his breath catching in his throat. Fuck, what a stupid answer, Jean cursed his lack of experience.

         “Good, mm,” Was Marco moaning?! Fuck, fuck. “Wrap your hand around your cock.” Jean compiled, a choked whimper falling from his mouth. Almost automatically, his hips rose. Jean felt like the most hormonal teenager in the world. Marco was a year older, what was someone like him doing screwing around with him. They were screwing around. Jean’s insides twisted into a painful knot.

        “Does that feel good Jean? I’m doing the same.. F-fuck.. Stroke yourself, Jean.. I need you..” Jean involuntarily let a moan escape his dry lips. He swallowed hard and gripped himself tightly, stroking his cock.

       “Marco.. W-what’s going on..? What the fuck-” he whimpered in the middle of his sentence. He felt his face burn again. “What the fuck are we doing..”

        “Shut up. Jean. Just, fuck. Shut up..” He heard Marco pant on the other end. Jean fought the urge to run to Marco’s house and jump him right there and then.

         "Marco I-I.. This doesn't feel right.." he bit back a loud moan, turning it into a breathy grunt, like that was any better.

         "Stop. Stop thinking," Marco said. "Does it feel good?" his voice came over the line quietly and just a little strained.

         "Y-Yes.."

         "Then shut the fuck up and come." Jean obliged. The hand stroking his length quickened, as did the noises tumbling from his mouth.

          "Oh god, Marco, ah, I'm s-so.. I'm, ah Marco I'm gonna.." Jean heard rustling from the other line. He pictured Marco doing the same thing, feverishly jerking off with the phone cradled by his ear and shoulder.

          He saw Marco moving his free hand down to under his balls, pressing gently at his entrance.

         "Say it." Marco's usually cheery voice sounded almost like a growl. Jean prayed his voice wouldn't crack.

        "I'm gonna come," he panted, picking up the pace. He couldn't hold back any longer.

         "Come. Jean, come for me." Jean nodded, not like Marco could see him or anything, and gripped himself tighter, bucking into his hands as he reached peak.

         "Ah oh god Marco I'm.. I'm.. Marco-!" his voice rose into a high whimper and he came. He heard the gasps and moans coming from Marco as he sat there, spent. He didn't hear words, only a moan or a pant here and there before the grumble of unintelligible words falling from Marco's mouth as he, Jean assumed, came.

         The boys listened to each other breathe, catching their breath slowly, Marco at least with a smile on his lips.

          "We should do this again sometime, Jean." Marco sounded like his usual self. Sounded like they had just gone out for pizza or hung out. Not got each other off.

          "Uh, yeah.." Jean said. He wanted to, of course but…

         "I'll see you at school in a few days okay? And I'll try to come to the games." he laughed. "Maybe I'll be safer in the stands." Jean forced a chuckle.

         "Yeah, cool. I'll see you then." he hung up, looking at the recent call list. Then he looked at his hands, covered in his own fluids. He went to the bathroom to clean off and when he was done, he locked his bedroom door, sank down against it, and wondered what the hell just happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! It seems like forever since we last updated, I'm sure! It's felt that way for us as well. Marissa has been swamped with school and because of that, it's taken more time than originally anticipated for writing and publishing. We apologize, but thank you for the continued support. 
> 
> We're beginning to wrap the story up, we must admit. The word count is climbing and we don't want it to get out of hand. There'll only be a chapter or two after this! But fear not, we've got another project in mind already! More word on that later however. Enjoy the chapter!
> 
> Questions, comments, concerns, fanart, etc, see our tumblrs:
> 
> Ren/Lalikur- legmin.tumblr.com  
> Marissa/ratsandpurpleflowers- queenofkirstein.tumblr.com


	6. Heatwave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's whatever. Just whatever.

         “You’re what?”

         “I’m lactose intolerant.” Jean mumbled, a little embarrassed as he handed back the ice cream Marco had just given him. Marco blinked.

         “Really?” he questioned as he took it back, placing it in the freezer. He gave a smug look, probably laughing it up in his head. “We’ll go to the corner store, there’s one a few blocks away.”

         Jean nodded and internally groaned. Lactose intolerancy. A curse that too many suffered. He could usually stomach pizza pretty well, but ice cream was a big no. He felt lazy and hot, and the last thing he wanted to do was move. Outside.

        "Get off your fat ass, Jean.” Marco complained, standing by the open door. Ouch. He distinctly remembered Marco complaining about how his butt was too bony and how it hurt when he sat on him. It was too much work thinking about this right now. He got up and dragged himself to the door.

        “You like my ass, shut up.” he grumbled, jumping up slightly when Marco slapped it with a laugh, locking the door behind them. They walked a little ways before Marco grabbed Jean’s hand, locking their fingers together.

        It was only a few minutes later that Marco snatched his hand away, wiping it on his pants, scowling. Jean sighed, doing the same. He knew Marco hated sweaty hands. But Jean couldn’t help it, it was hot outside, and he sweated when he was kinda nervous. Marco made him nervous, but it was a good nervous.

         “Sorry,” Marco said, taking Jean’s hand back into his own. They reached the store and went inside still holding hands. They were used to the stares by now. In fact it didn’t even bother them. Look on, they thought. Look at my boyfriend. Marco squeezed Jean’s hand a little tighter, smiling as he surveyed the limited fruit pop options.

         “Picky as always.” he hummed, nudging Jean in the ribs.

         “Yeah yeah yeah.” Jean muttered after picking out the least expensive option. They made their way in and out of the store as hastily as they could, not forgetting to bask in the nice air conditioned feeling. Home was their goal at the moment.

         

         Jean unwrapped the pop during the last block, and re-wrapped it with his mouth, annoyed by the heat flushed in his cheeks. It was hot as hell outside and he didn't want his purchase to totally melt before they got home. He moaned unintentionally and startled Marco. Desperately trying to lick what was melting before it dripped onto his hand. Jean was a magnet for embarrassment it seemed. Marco kept staring, watching Jean's tongue and the way his lips wrapped around it. They were almost home, not quickly enough for Marco though. He lurched towards him before suddenly mashing his lips against Jean’s sticky mouth.

         “You’ve gotta learn how to clean up after yourself, Kirstein..” He murmured, amused.

          “Your house is right there.” Jean breathily pointed out, nodding towards the door about 15 feet from them. Marco grabbed Jean’s clammy hand and sped to the entrance, fiddling with his keys to open it as fast as his hands could manage. Jean didn’t know what he was expecting, but within moments he was slammed against the wall left to the door, hands covering his hips, Marco’s thigh between his own. He pushed Marco back slightly to get some space, but the other boy relented. Kissing down his jaw, panting as he went.

         “Jesus christ, Jean... You.. You do things to me.” He paused at his ear to whisper. Jean took this as a compliment, but contemplated what those things were. He did a lot of things to Marco. But in that moment Marco was doing things to him, bad things. Jean felt intimidated, hot, and sticky. He felt like fleeing. Marco’s leg rubbed against his crotch, he had no choice but to whimper. They’d only ever gone as far as a handjob, this was too large of a situation for Jean to handle. He sank back against the wall, knees feeling quaky. Was this teen adrenaline fuelling Marco into this, or had he done this before...

         “M-Marco..” He pushed at the other boy’s shoulders with as much strength he could muster, which wasn’t much. His body was willing him to continue but his mind was whirring. Marco’s hands were travelling to forbidden territory too quickly for Jean. His fingers toying at the button on his pants. Jean pushed his hips forward gently, swearing his body was acting on its own. “Wait, please, what are you..-” Marco forced his mouth on Jean’s own, their tongues colliding sloppily. A line of saliva trailing between their lips.   
“I want to fuck you Jean, I.. I mean.. Is this okay?” Marco's voice curving nervously. Jean’s heart skipped at every word.

         He turned away from Marco's dark eyes, squeezing his own shut and forcing himself to think. He wanted this too. Want eating at his core like acid.

         "I-I'm okay.." He pressed forward and undid his trousers, whining like a child when Marco's hand pressed ever so slightly on his cock. He felt hard enough to cut diamonds. He needed more. He grabbed Marco's wrist and turned him so now he was against the wall. Leaning forward as hard as he could Jean rubbed his crotch against Marco's leg. He moaned, panicked, then remembered they were alone.

         "Are you sure? Tell me to stop if you don't want to, please, I don't want to force this on you.." Marco mumbled, kissing down Jean's neck as he turned the tables once more. Jean was against the wall again, with the other boy grabbing his ass and hoisting him up. He placed his legs on either side of Marco while he held him in place.

         "Ahh.. D-Don't stop..." Jean felt himself dripping cum. He closed his eyes tight and rolled his hips against Marco's. His toll rising, neck burning like never before.

         "What do you.." Pause for and adorable pant, "Ahh.. Want me to do to you Jean?" Cue intimidatingly arousing voice. Jean wanted it all. He wanted to be fucked into the ground, he wanted the unexpected, he wanted Marco's cum marking his pink lips. Jean felt needy and wanton. He hated it and wanted control. What the fuck was he doing anyway? He and Marco didn't know what they were doing? Did they?

         "I just want you." Jean whispered, trying to get the button on Marco's pants undone. His hands were shaking too bad. Marco's eyes glinted as Jean's fingers brushed the bulge in his pants. He shoved Jean's hands away and pinned them above his head, reuniting their mouths. As their tongues wrestled Marco pressed himself up against his boyfriend, hips moving, searching for friction. Eventually he found it. Jean bit Marco's lip in his mouth.

         Marco groaned as their clothed cocks rubbed against each other. Jean broke away, panting, eyes screwed up and face dark red. His hips were fast.

         "Mar-co I'm, ah I think I'm, oh god I'm close," he whined.

         "No stamina at all, huh Kirs--" Marco was cut off as he looked at Jean grinding against him, breathless mouth hanging open, whimpers and whines tumbling out. He felt Jean's nails dig into his hands. He let out a deep grunt as he thrusted quicker. Jean didn't last longer than that.

         "Marco I-!" he rutted greedily on Marco, coming in his pants. He leaned his head on Marco's shoulder, mumbling apologies. Marco shook his head.

         "Tsk. Looks like we'll have to clean you up..." Jean felt his stomach flip. He wasn't sure he was ready for this. Jean was as pure as a frilly white dress, and was sure he'd come again if Marco did anything new. Marco dragged him to his room and kneeled over him on the bed, a knee against Jean's thigh. Regardless of his doubts, Jean wanted this. Badly. He helped Marco take his shirt off.

         His chest rose shakily, ribs and hips jutting out under the muscle he had. He was skinny but he definitely wasn't without strength. He could hear his heart beating in his ears and he covered his eyes with his arm, feeling his throat tighten. He was nervous. And that was an understatement. This was all so new. He fought not to cry as he lay there in ruined boxers.

         Marco stopped his hands.

         "Jean, is this okay?" He sat up. "I don't want to force you into anything..." he looked away. "I'm sorry I forget you're new to all this an-"

         "No, it's okay. Can we just, take a little break? Maybe let me change into something less, uh, wet..." he trailed off, ears burning. Marco looked so relieved.

         "Yeah, definitely." he smiled, knowing neither of them would be in clean clothes for much longer. But what the hell. Let Jean calm down a little first, right?

 

         They ended up playing video games for a bit, Jean insisting Marco also take off his shirt and pants. He didn't want to be the only guy in just his boxers while Marco sat there fully clothed. Marco just laughed and stripped down, a little embarrassed by the visible boner he had.

         The air was thick with tension. They both felt it but neither wanted to say anything. Their hands brushed momentarily. They looked at each other.

         And then as quick as passing lightning, Jean was on Marco, asserting his own dominance and pushing him into the bed, kissing him viciously. Teeth scraped and tongues fought and God damn, Jean noted at how crazy it was how horny they could both simultaneously be. Jean moved his hand down to the tent in Marco's underwear, running his fingers over the head of Marco's dick. He groaned and thrust up.

         Jean grinned and hesitantly wrapped his hand around it through the cloth, giving it a few experimental pumps, hands brushing around Marco's skin.

         "Fucking touch me already." Marco growled, panting beneath him. Jean slipped the boxers down and covered the dick with his hand instead. He knew Marco wouldn't last long, after all, he hadn't come earlier.

         Jean slowly moved his hand up and down, watching Marco's face twist as he bit his lip, freckles glowing red. He bucked into Jean's hand, moaning, his dick leaking precum.

         "J-Jean please..." he begged softly, knuckles white as he gripped the sheets. Jean stroked him faster, feeling his own cock wane against the tight restraint of his boxers. Marco was begging him to keep going. Marco was begging. Marco was... also moaning very loudly. Jean's paranoia of someone hearing melted when he heard his name break under the boy's uneven breath. The feeling of control felt good under his palm.

         "Is it good..?" He questioned. Jean was always a confident person but this was like trying to play a 3 piece concerto without hands. Marco nodded, his hand overlapping Jean's. He pressed his thumb into the slit of Marco's cock. The boy looked like he was about to bite through his own lip, Jean was almost sure he would. Marco's legs were shaking almost visibly, his knees locked, a stream of sticky liquid spurting out in turns.

         A white hot feeling absorbing him. Covering the both of their hands, Marco grabbed Jeans wrist and brought their hands to his mouth. He licked at the cum curiously. Jean felt his body go numb and then pine all the more. He needed his turn.

         He continued to clean their hands, Marco staring up at him eyes half lidded. Jean grinned down at his boyfriend and leaned down, cautiously pressing his lips to Marco's, the foreign taste of cum on them. Marco moved his leg up a little to brush over Jean's erection. He groaned into the kiss.

         Marco sat up, fingers running along the back of Jean's neck and in his hair.

         "Lie down." he said soothingly, pushing Jean down. With little grace, he yanked off Jean's boxers, smirking at the wet patch on them. He scooted down the bed, trailing kisses down Jean's stomach and on his thighs. He paused to gauge the reaction, the quivering breath hitching in his throat when Marco got near his cock.

          Marco ran his tongue along Jean's dick, listening to the sound of the moan he had tried hard to subdue. He took the head into his mouth and let himself take more in slowly. Jean was a mess. Thrusting into Marco's mouth, shaking under him. His moans were loud as he grabbed Marco's hair, wishing he could die like this; a warm mouth around his cock, hollowed cheeks sucking as he writhed. And then he felt cold air.

         "Get on your knees." Marco commanded, his voice thick and eyes glazed with lust. Jean did as he was told, face burning at the thought of sticking his ass in Marco's face. But he went along with it, flipping over, resting on his knees, face pressed sideways into one of Marco’s pillows. The smell of the pillow comforting him as much as it could.

         With all the teenaged hormones he could will, Marco’s hands were all over Jean’s ass, grabbing it with fervor. Jean’s stomach lifted, a space forming between him and the bed.

         “Don’t get greedy..” Marco instructed. Jean tried his hardest to comply, especially when the bed provided such nice friction. Marco gently slapped Jean’s buttcheek, then gave it a squeeze. Marco giggled. He fucking giggled. Jean’s face scrunched up automatically, this was embarrassing. Hot. Embarrassing. Really damn hot.

         “Marco..! Is my ass really that funny?!" His voice filled to the brim with desperation. Jean turned to look at his boyfriend’s face, it went from slightly cheerful to deadpan. Marco leaned over Jean, pressing his front to Jean’s back. Grabbing his dick and whispering into his ear.

         “You’re just so cute,” he groaned, kissing down his neck and back, hand squeezing around Jean’s cock, breathing out a laugh as Jean gasped, his hips responding. His ass was now definitely grinding into something hard. And it was definitely Marco’s dick.

         “S-so.. About fucking me..” Jean managed to groan out. Marco was suddenly off of Jean, grabbing his hands and holding them behind his back.

         “Impatient, impatient.” Leaning sideways, Marco hastily grabbed a small container of vaseline. He dipped his finger in and and pressed it to Jean’s entrance. Jean started screaming internally. But regardless, Marco’s long digit pushed into his tight hole. It hurt at first, but that changed when Marco touched something inside him. Jean's moaning filled both of their ears. Jean already felt tears welling in his eyes. He was tight, and well aware of it when Marco shoved his middle finger in along with his index.

         Marco’s skilled fingers scissored in and out of Jean, other hand still holding his hands behind him. Jean struggled and writhed, crying out as little as he could. He let his inhibitions take control of him. His voice keening over with pleasure. Jean felt cold air on his cheeks. Marco released his hands, and switched it for a hand full of Jean's hair. He pulled back, hard.

         “Marc-- Marco! S-Shit, please I'm..” He cried, pleasure and pain equally tearing at his insides.

         “Are you going to come for me Jean?” Marco's voice etched with subtle husky yet childish enthusiasm. Jean readjusted onto his elbows and looked behind him, gently whimpering into his own shoulder. He squeezed his eyes sealed and nodded. Just so, Marco removed his fingers. Jean swore in that moment he lost a part of himself. He pushed his ass back, into nothing. And there Jean was. A blubbering mess. Unshed tears clouding his vision. Cock ready to burst. And Marco fucking Bodt.

         “M-Marco?” He didn’t have the strength to move. He collapsed his elbows and grabbed at the sheets. “Marco p-please..” he begged, the neediness in his voice very noticeable. Jean was still fully invested in this, but it seemed Marco had dropped commitment. His face turning back to its loveable yet currently punchable look.

         “C’mere Jean.. You’re so cute.. Look how whiny you are-- Jean!! You’re dripping on my sheets!" Jean looked down at his cock, cum was indeed dripping from tip to cover. His mind was yelling a billion things. It seemed Jean had lost his voice. And his ability to coherently move. Marco was acting as if Jean broke into his house just to touch himself on his bed. Jean was thoroughly convinced this was all some sick scheme Marco came up with to humiliate him.

         His hips thrust into the bed a few times as his voice blabbered for more, to please, let him come. Marco just shushed him, putting a finger to his lips.

         "Just go to sleep Jean.." he whispered as he pulled Jean into his lap, shifting him around a little so he wouldn't be speared by his boyfriend's bony ass. Jean nestled up against him, groping around for his dick with drowsy hands. But Marco swatted his hand away with a light laugh. He swore he heard Marco say there was time for more tomorrow, but his head didn't let him fully grasp the comment or reply as he passed out, humble but wanton.

         Marco watched him sleep for a while, wiping the tears from his face with a quiet smile. A small wave a guilt washed over him. He sighed and rested his head on Jean's, his smile slowly faltering.

         He hoped this was a good experience for his boyfriend. He looked up at the ceiling. What would the morning be like? Would Jean regret all this? Would Jean even talk?

         He looked back to his sleeping boyfriend and his doubts faded. If Jean was still there in the morning, Marco knew he was alright. He grabbed Jean's hand and after pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, and fell asleep under him, their backs leaning against the cool wall, gentle light pouring through the cracks in the blinds, silently reminding them both that the day was not yet done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is, chapter 6. Marissa had previously stated that this was going to be the last chapter, but due to school and scheduling and all that jazz, we've decided to prolong it for one more. 
> 
> Ren is back in school as well so we can't give an estimated release date yet, but it might be a while!
> 
> Just to clarify, this chapter does have less plot. Okay not really any plot. Hope you enjoy it either way. 
> 
> Thank you for all the support and fanart and comments! And if anyone has any critiques, don't hesitate to let us know. We're still improving in our writing and anything that might help us is really appreciated. 
> 
> Ren- lalikur/legmin.tumblr.com  
> Marissa- ratsandpurpleflowers/queenofkirstein.tumblr.com  
> Tumblr tag- au admit it


	7. Admit It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's whatever. Just whatever.

         Marco grumbled, turning away from the harsh light boring holes in his blinds. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up, glancing around. Huh. Where was Jean? Didn't he... Oh. Marco frowned. An empty bed in a cold room. He waited a few minutes. Maybe Jean was in the bathroom. Five minutes came and went and still no Jean.

         He leaned back against the wall, letting his head knock harder than the rest of his body. Jean left him. To Jean this must have been just an uncomfortable one night stand. Marco let out a shaky sigh and wondered how long he had been gone. What would Jean say when Marco showed up at the game tonight? Would he even be welcome there... Marco had taken a big risk, going that far that fast with his boyfriend, but, it was consensual. Marco knew that was important but still, he felt guilty as ever.

        Marco felt his throat tighten up, fire burning behind his eyes. He stood up to get dressed. Had to move or else... Or else he'd end up a sad guilty mess on the bed. But the flame persisted. He breathed out a shaky half-sob. He lost Jean. Lost him all because he couldn't keep his hands to himself and his dick in his pants. Jean would never talk to him the same. Jean wouldn't look at him the same or think of him the same. Marco cursed as he felt tears welling up in his eyes, his shoulders beginning to quake.

        And then the door opened. Well not so much as opened as flew open, revealing Jean in... What was he wearing? One of Marco's t-shirts (a size and a half too big), his boxers, and... Marco's mother's apron. Marco bust out laughing, falling back into the bed, holding his stomach crying. He couldn't tell if his tears were left over from thinking Jean had left, tears from surprise, or tears from laughing so hard.

        "Marco? Why are you crying?" Jean stood in the doorway, half panicked half worried.

        "What the hell are you wearing?" he asked, hysterical, wiping his eyes. Jean looked down.

        "Well.. we ruined my clean clothes yesterday and all I have left is my boxers and uniform, and I didn't want to walk around shirtless so I stole one of yours, I figured you wouldn't mind, and I didn't want to get it dirty so, the apron." A blush had risen to his ears. He must look pretty stupid. Baggy shirt, boxers that barely covered half his thighs, and his boyfriend's mother's hot pink apron. He rubbed the back of his head. "Okay maybe I do look stupid. But that's not the point. Why are you still asleep? Get your ass downstairs I'm trying to make breakfast… And I think I set your stove on fire."

        Marco laughed and got up. As he walked past Jean he pulled him into a kiss, reveling in the fact that he hadn't actually left. They were okay. Jean pulled away breathless and smiled.

       "Good morning to you too."

 

  
         The two of them rendezvoused in the kitchen, Marco finishing the cooking as cleanly as he could. Jean sat disappointed in his ability to cook two fucking eggs without reeking havoc on his surroundings, notedly still in the girly apron. He was nursing a cup of lukewarm milk that Marco stuck in the microwave for him a few minutes before. It soothed the gentle nervousness in his throat with each small swallow.

         Jean hadn’t had a moment of peace in his own mind since last night, images of everything replaying in slow, slow, beautiful motion. He’d never admit it to Marco but he had gotten off when he woke up, in Marco’s bathroom. Doing just what he’d told Connie he couldn’t do. He smiled strangely at the cup in his hand, catching Marco’s attention.

         “What’s on your mind, Jean?” He placed two eggs, sunny side up, in front of Jean, obviously different from the ones that Jean had attempted to cook. Jean didn’t doubt that Marco could cook. Marco could do everything. The slight smile stuck on Jean’s face, glancing up towards his boyfriend humming gently as he scooped a forkful of egg into his mouth. Marco placed his elbow on the table and leaned his cheek on his palm, carefully watching Jean. Jean’s eyes widened.

         “What the hell is this? Magic? Marco, who are you?” The small amount of egg in his mouth did wonders. It tasted better than any egg he ever tried, and if he was completely honest Jean didn’t even _like_ eggs that much.

         “I’m sorry I never told you Jean… I’m the master chef.” Marco smirked and Jean chuckled as his fork shoveled more into his mouth. “You need protein so you can be strong and kick some Titan ass.” Marco ruffled Jean’s hair, smiling sweetly.

         “Are you kidding me? Have you even seen the gun show Marco? Huh? Have you?” Jean kicked his chair out from under him, sticking his arms out on either side of himself, flexing. Marco doubled over at the sight of his boyfriend in a pink apron flexing almost-non-existent muscles in a fashion worthy of a soap opera.

         “Now, now, that’s enough. I’m getting intimidated.” Marco humoured him. Jean laughed and picked his chair up from where it had fallen and returned it to the table. On his way to the sink he stopped and kissed Marco's cheek with a small smile.

        "Thanks for breakfast. It was great." He leaned in to whisper into his ear, his own reddening "Just like yesterday." He was about to move when Marco grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him to his lips, crushing them against his. Jean was surprised at first but went along with it, putting his plate on the table and placing his hands on either side of Marco's face and pressing them closer.

        "I thought you had left." Marco confessed softly, resting his forehead against Jean's, admiring the blush that had risen in his cheeks. "I thought you hated what happened," he laughed in spite of himself. "I thought you-" he was cut off by Jean's mouth resting against his, shoulders being gripped tightly by his hands. 

        "Never." he told his boyfriend, staring him dead in his eyes. "I wanted to lie next to you until you woke up but, I had to pee… And! I was hungry, as you can see..." He gestured to the messy kitchen, "I didn't do a very good job." he chucked. "You know we should probably clean up... We've got a bit of time until the cook out anyway right?"  
Marco laughed and nodded, his heart buzzing at Jean's words.

         "My mom would probably freak out if she saw the house right now." Jean looked around. Shoes had been kicked off and landed in different places, socks as well; picture frames were sideways and crooked if they were even on the wall at all. Littering the hallway to Marco's room were shirts and another sock. Inside, pants were strewn about and boxers led the way to the bed where the sheets lay half on and half off.

        The kitchen was a whole different story. Pots and pans lining the counters with egg shells on the floor and egg shells in the sink. Milk poured haphazardly and spilled, a burned chunk of... Something still steaming from the trash, the pan blackened from fire cooling off on the stove. Marco's side was much cleaner. A pan and a spatula and a stick of butter. Jean was a mess, as usual.

          "I'll clean the kitchen, you pick up the clothes. Most of the clothes around here are yours anyway." Marco snickered as he picked up his and Jean's plate and brought it to the sink which needed to be clean before it could be cleaned. Jean smiled a little and nodded, picking up the clothes as he went along.

        He tossed his and Marco's clothes into the washer, washing his hands after dealing with his... Dirty boxers. Fixing the picture frames were harder, having to put them back on the wall and straighten them. He could never tell if they were straight or not. He figured it was fine and wiped his hands on his apron. Shit. He forgot he was wearing that. He took it off and rehung it on the hook in the kitchen.

        "Aw, I was enjoying you being my sexy housewife." Marco wiggled his eyebrows, drying his hands off with a towel.

         "Yeah yeah yeah.." Jean said with a slight laugh, looking at the time. The cookout was an hour away, they had finished most of the cleaning but made a mistake eating before a damn cookout. Jean felt no where near hungry, he would probably blame it on his nerves later. It was their last game of the season. Marco wouldn’t be playing but he swore to himself he’d do his best for the both of them.

         “Jean,” Marco bent over to pick up one of his shirts which wasn’t even involved in last nights affairs. “How did we even get this shirt dirty? Are your baseball clothes even clean? Jeez..” He shook his head slightly at the mess of it all. Jean rummaged through his bag and pulled out his uniform, he hung it over his shoulder and nudged Marco in the butt with his foot.

         “Want me to strip for you?” Jean hoped to provoke Marco but he just tilted his head at him and raised his eyebrows.

          “That sounds strenuous. Let’s not tire out the guns.” Marco teased, nudging Jean back. Secretly disappointed, Jean’s curious self trudged to the bathroom. He changed and came out to find Marco already waiting, ready at the door. This was the final game. Fall break was right around the corner and this could send them off on a good note. Jean felt things turning up for himself.

 

        The day was hot and naturally, full of teenagers. They were greeted by Mr. Levi’s usual forced smile while he reluctantly flipped burgers. Jean was pretty sure that Levi was a vegan, along with his weird counterpart Biology teacher, Dr. Hanji. Poor guy. Flipping his meat for a bunch of kids. Connie and Eren were loitering by the grill, Sasha not far behind. The rest of the team around a small fire pit, which the school had set up specifically for team events. Coach Smith was ogling his iPad, paying little of his attention to the kids. Important baseball iPad business as it seemed. The Coach looked up for a moment, as if realizing something.

        “Ah, we’re all here then! I’d like to thank you all for being such team players this season, we could not have done it without you. Literally. You are the baseball team.” he cleared his throat, “A-and I’ll pass the mic to Mr. Levi..!” He shuffled to the side. Jeez, Jean thought, what an embarrassing guy. Their chemistry teacher on the other hand looked like he just got shot in the heart. He shot Coach Smith a look that could kill small animals. Scary...

        “I don’t coach you guys, I’m here preparing food for my colleagues,” He motioned towards Coach Smith. “Who are incapable of placing a slab of filthy meat on a barbeque.” He seemed to mutter the last part, but it was loud enough for everyone to hear. “You’re all pretty mediocre at hitting balls with bats. Pat yourselves on the back, you’re going places, kids.”

         “What an inspirational speech,” He murmured under his breath. Jean withheld the urge to get up and kick him in the face. Marco clapped a few times, the awkward cadence stopping as he noticed no one else was joining in.

        After a while, burgers and hotdogs were passed around, as well as some vegan food. Hanji insisted on bringing some, especially because "she and Levi were vegan". He said it was just easier but everyone knew he was too picky to eat anything else. Most people took a whiff and passed it down, grimacing at the sight of it, Jean on the other hand actually tried it. And found he liked it.

        He carefully put more on his plate, trying to balance the odd mix of foods before he sat down with Marco and the others. They stared at him as he ate it with a smile, really enjoying the weird food the science teachers had brought along. Levi looked at him with more respect, and Hanji came over and had an interesting discussion about plants and a bunch of other stuff he nodded at and pretended to understand.

        Marco scooped a tiny bite off Jean’s plate and almost immediately spit it out. He grumbled and took a long drink to clear the taste from his tongue. Jean sighed.

        Otherwise, the cookout was nice. Everyone got along. Even Jean and Eren, per Marco's request. A few lesser teammates complained about Marco's being there, but Coach Smith had made him an honourary member after the leg incident. He couldn't play or be in the dugout during games, but he came to most of the practices and the events.

        Connie snickered as Mikasa wiped Armin's cheek. He shoved her off, blushing. Eren laughed until she did the same to him. After a while though it got quieter. There were only a few hours until the finals. Nerves were beginning to take over as food was left to cool. Not even Connie tried making a joke.

       Until the reminder that the game would start in 10 minutes, everyone stayed quiet aside from the fart that came from either Connie or Sasha and the giggles that came after. Jean felt the familiar sting of nervousness run through him, Marco's grip on his hand numbing it somewhat. He wanted to make this count, and was determined to help his team become victorious. 5 minutes passed in the blink of an eye, and it was time to get out onto the field.

        He guided Marco to the front of the stands, hands still together. Jean was too nervous to give a shit about people seeing them being affectionate. Leaning his forehead against Marco's, they looked into eachothers eyes for a few seconds before Jean was called onto the green.

         "Break a leg." Marco smiled teasingly at Jean and gave his hand a squeeze.

         "Ha-ha, very clever." Jean mocked back. He let go of Marco's hand and braced for whatever this game would throw at him. Literally.

  
  
          Jean shook his hands as he jogged out to the field. It was the bottom of the 10th with a 5/5 tie that had been going since the top of the 7th, all thanks to Eren’s grand slam. No one expected they’d have to go into extra innings, but here they were. On Marian’s field during the Championship Game. Jean was the closing pitcher, and if he didn’t strike out Bertholdt Hoover, they’d go home empty handed. He tried blocking out the cheers and yells coming from the stands, to focus on the task at hand, but with so many distractions, it was obvious if he didn’t do this now he’d never do it at all.

         It did comfort him to know the Titan on home plate looked just as much as a nervous wreck as Jean was. Lanky limbs jutting out, eyebrows knotted, sweat beading at his forehead. He relaxed a little when he heard his name from the dugout but he was still tense. Jean breathed in and threw.

         Strike one. Another pitch. Ball one. Pitch. Foul ball. Pitch. Swing.

        The ball and bat connected. Time slowed for both teams as the ball sank into Jean’s glove as it sped towards him. The air was pushed from his lungs as were the spectators from their seats. He coughed, trying to regain his breath.

         As time caught up with Jean so did the news. They had won, and he hadn't even realized it till a minute later. Everyone was cheering and crowding him, the people in the audience were all standing, aside from the few parents of the kids from Marian who were disdainfully checking their iPhones and pretending they didn't notice all the noise around them; Bertoldt sat with his heads in his hands in the Titan Bullpen, Reiner patting his back sympathetically.

        Jean scanned the crowd looking for Marco above all the commotion surrounding him, but couldn't see him. He shoved past everyone swarming him and was immediately greeted by a cheery face shouting praise for the winning team. Jean grinned and sprinted towards Marco. Marco tried jumping half heartedly, wrapping his arms around Jean, engulfing him. Jean stuffed his face into his neck, and then, without warning…  
   
       "I love you.."

        Marco nuzzled against him, smiling, a little taken aback by the sudden confession. But Jean kissing him months back to confess to his crush was sudden too; they were a sudden couple and Marco wouldn't want it any other way.

        "I love you, too." he hummed, hugging him tightly. Jean broke away and wrapped his arms around Marco's neck, drawing him into a kiss. He didn't care that they were standing on the pitchers mound in front of everyone, he didn't care that they had just won and his team was about to celebrate without him. All he cared about was the warmth he felt in his chest and the boy in front of him that shared his feelings.

       They pulled away with a warm blush scattering their cheeks to Connie jogging up to them grinning, a large trophy in his hands.

         "If you guys are done here, we'd like to celebrate." He handed it to Jean, who took it and Marco's hand as they walked a little behind the team.  
  
          At the end of the day Jean didnt care Jaeger had been named MVP, or that after all these years they had beaten the Titans and we're #1 again. And why should he? He had Marco, and Marco loved him too.

         What could be better than that? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And after the longest wait ever, here it is, the final chapter. We had SO much fun writing this! We hope you guys enjoyed it too. Thank you for the reign as #1, even though it was only for a short while! Thank you for the comments and the fanart and suggestions and all the support, the process was amazing. This final chapter is dedicated to you all, typical, we know. 
> 
> We're also excited to announce a new project: a short Eren, Mikasa, and Armic fic. Stay tuned to our blogs for more information. 
> 
> Again, thank you so much. Please enjoy the final installment. 
> 
> Comments? Questions? Concerns? Fanart? Anything? Message us on tumblr!  
> Lalikur/Ren- legmin.tumblr.com  
> Ratsandpurpleflowers/Marissa- queenofkirstein.tumblr.com  
> Official tumblr tag- admit it au

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collective writing with @ratsandpurpleflowers
> 
> ratsandpurpleflowers is queenofkirstein.tumblr.com
> 
> lalikur is legmin.tumblr.com
> 
> Judge us. We're writing this whole entire gay for you guys
> 
> Got fanart? Questions? Comments? Just wanna let us know how you feel? Message us on tumblr or put something in our tag!


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